Fate: WarN
by SuchBass
Summary: A 7th Grail War set in an alternate timeline. With a dangerous Magus clan from the past re-entering the fray, and an enigmatic young assassin acting in the shadows, will the descendants of Einzbern, Tohsaka, Matou, Velvet and Kotomine show their supremacy or fall before the might of the Otori and the mysterious Kage? Rated T for language and mild mature themes.
1. Prologue

**Fate/WarN**

* * *

I do not own anything related to the Fate franchise. Though historical figures are involved, the events in this fan fiction are, as the name implies, fictional. Any resemblance to real-life events or real people is purely coincidental. Original characters, however, are my intellectual property, though their surnames are predominantly not.

The events in Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Hollow Ataraxia, Fate/Extra, Fate/Prototype, Fate/Unlimited Codes, Fate/Stay Night, Fate/Strange Fake, Fate/Kaleid Liner PRISMA ILLYA, Fate/Extra CCC (Though I confess, Gilgamesh was amazing in that) and Fate/Tiger Colosseum are disregarded in this story, as it is an alternate timeline sequel to Fate/Zero, occurring 130 years after it, in which Emiya Shirou, Tohsaka Rin and Waver Velvet failed to destroy the Greater Grail, although Angra Mainyu was purged from its center. The Fifth Grail War occurring ten years after the Fourth has been noted, whereas the 6th and 7th occur 60 years after the 5th and 6th respectively, as normal. This makes the time placement of Fate/WarN somewhere around the year 2120. Technology within the world has been developed as such. It is, essentially, just another Grail War. With crazy-ass nanites and graphene armour.

A note on honorifics, for the uncultured swine: I am naming people based on where they're from. As the majority of the characters are Japanese, I will be using surnames first for the characters hailing from Japan. As Charles Velvet and other such characters are from the West, this does not apply. His name is not Velvet Charles, you mongrel.

Now, if you don't know, here are some honorifics and who they refer to:

_-San _is used in the same context as _Mr_, _Mrs _or _Miss_. It is applied to most people, even businesses.

_-Chan _is for a small child, or one of much younger age than the speaker.

_-Senpai _is a reference to a student of a higher grade or age than the speaker.

_-Kun _is a male teenager.

_-Sama _and _-dono _are used in the context of _My Lord _or _My Lady._

Royalty are referred to as _-denka_.

Also, I've removed the inexcusable misspelling that is Iskandar. His name is Alexander. _Alexander._

* * *

SA

5 years before the War

It was only for a second that his hand burned, but Tohsaka Renzoku knew what that searing sensation was. He raised his hand to examine what had formed, and saw it: the red, swirling marks appeared to glow as he examined them, forming the evident shape of a Command Seal. Studying the mark more closely, it formed a circular pattern, as his ancestors Tokiomi, Rin and Sakura had been marked with. He immediately turned from his books and rushed out of the basement of the Tohsaka mansion, seeking his father. Renzoku careered through the halls, nearly crashing straight into Mao, their elderly housekeeper, before skidding to a halt before the door of Tohsaka Yuzaru's office. He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath and wipe the ridiculous grin off his face before rocking onto the tips of his toes and knocking loudly, four times.

"Enter." Renzoku turned the handle and pushed, the oaken door turning effortlessly on its well-oiled hinges. He entered his father's well-lit office, taking in his surroundings, as he did not often enter the room. In the center, beneath a gigantic arched window, sat his father's mahogany desk, reflecting ridiculous amounts of the already ample sunlight streaming in through the window. To Renzoku's left was a large bookshelf, crammed with tomes full of the Tohsaka family's ancient magical knowledge. To his right was a small table holding magical oddities, next to which was a massive framed portrait of Renzoku's ancestor, Tohsaka Tokiomi.

"What do you want?" Yuzaru sat up in his chair, the disappointment at seeing it was only Renzoku clear on his face. Always the disappointment, the frown as his eyebrows furrowed and his big, icy blue eyes hardened to a stony grey, formidable and intimidating.

"Fa-Mr Yuzaru, there's something incredibly important that you need to see." Yuzaru sighed dramatically, straightening some papers.

"Renzoku, I can see you're excited, but I'm very bus-"

"Father, you have to look!" Renzoku held up his hand, and Yuzaru rolled his eyes.

"Go wash that off. You're seventeen already, now stop playing at Master."

Renzoku dabbed two fingers against his tongue and rubbed vigorously on the Command Seal, until the saliva ceased working as a lubricant and his skin began to burn under the friction. He held the hand up again, the flesh surrounding the mark an angry red, the mark itself an angrier red. Yuzaru's papers dropped from his hands and fell onto the desk with a loud thump. He stood up, eyes wide, and grabbed hand salve from his desk, storming over and grabbing Renzoku's wrist, trying to remove the mark for all he was worth. Finally he gave in, and released the hand.

"You promise you're not playing games with me, son?"

_Son… He said…Son._

"No, Mr Yuzaru. I promise." His father walked over to the bookshelf, selecting eight tomes. With four in the crook of each arm, he turned to Renzoku.

"I had intended to train you for another year in basic studies, but now you must choose a path to truly master. Do you want to specialize in fire magic, like your ancestor Tokiomi, or Gem magic, like his daughter Rin?"

"Gem magic was used appropriately by Rin, as she was the teenage girl the study is intended for. I choose pyromancy." Before Renzoku could reach for the fire tomes, Yuzaru had smacked him over the head with the Gem magic books.

"You will not dishonour our family so. Were it possible, I would make you suffer for that slight by making you master Gem magic, but a student of your disappointing aptitude needs at least a profession he can enjoy. Come to my office tonight, at exactly eight o'clock. We'll begin your tuition. When the time comes in five years for the Grail War to begin, the Einzbern and Matou Masters might have to use you as a toothpick rather than a mop."

"Mr Yuzaru?" Renzoku looked at the floor, his head still stinging.

"What?"

"Thank you."

"Whatever for?" Renzoku angled his head even further down, struggling to contain tears of joy.

"You called me 'Son'." Yuzaru raised an eyebrow.

"Why is that surprising? Your mother is, after all, my wife, and I trust that she is faithful. You are my child, and can be addressed as such." Renzoku blinked back another tear, before bowing low and walking out of the office with another stupid grin on his face.

* * *

AR

5 years before the War

For the eighteenth time that morning, the bolt from Otori Chagatai's crossbow flew straight to the mark in the centre of his training dummy's head, hitting it so powerfully that it went straight through, embedding itself firmly in the wooden wall behind the hay man. A servant collected the bolt, removing the intact head and tossing the shaft away. Chagatai remained silent as he cocked the crossbow back again, another servant pulled a lever and the conveyor belt began moving again, and Chagatai's aim remained true. _Not that pointing &amp; shooting presents much challenge. _

One month ago, the Command seal had appeared on Chagatai's hand, a distinct sword-shaped mark etched out in bloody red. The Otori clan had been forgotten by the Grail, the greatest Magus clan in history lost to the shadow while others claimed the limelight. The Einzberns. Pathetic. Their homunculi were perfect to behold, demonstrating the contrasting inferiority of their creators. The only real power possessed by the Tohsaka was the fact they owned land, while the Matou sat in the dirt, playing with their earthworms. Another bolt struck the dummy's head, once again embedding itself in the wall behind. When Chagatai brought forth his Servant, the six other Masters would be capable of doing nothing but laying in front of him to die.

Target practice began to bore him before long, so Chagatai left the darkened training hall and went to prepare himself some breakfast. In spite of the small army of servants in the employ of the Otori clan, Chagatai preferred to be as self-sufficient as he could be bothered to, preparing his own food, crafting and sharpening his own weaponry and even lending two hands to the vast expanses of farmland and forest that the Otori owned. This resulted in his largely solitary nature, and the physical work, as well as frequent exercise and combat training, gave him power unexpected from a frame as lean as his.

In addition, Chagatai was considered by most to be relatively attractive despite the odd physical appearance of the pure-blooded Otori. This consisted of an angular, chiselled face, scarlet eyes and, strangest of all, white hair, which Chagatai spent no effort controlling. This led to a constantly changing hairstyle, though he did contribute a great deal of time to keeping it soft and relatively healthy. Very little of this crossed Chagatai's mind as he fried three eggs in a gigantic pan, keeping a close eye on the 6-slot toaster to his right. With a click of his fingers, a twenty-three inch television blinked into life on the wall.

"One zero three." The channel was changed to the morning news as the smell of cooked food filled the air.

"…_the source of another great development in the scientific world today. How will these new nanites be used in everyday circumstances, and are there any side effects the public should be wary of?"_

"_Well, Kouzuki, it's difficult to say at present. As they can be programmed to hunt down and destroy certain toxins, their everyday applications could involve the destruction of carcinogenic infections, or simply to hunt down more everyday infections, such as the common cold, in the form of a capsule or pill."_

"_So you've developed the cure for cancer?"_

"_We've poured three hundred and eighty billion yen into a project that has yielded tiny programmable organisms that may be capable of defeating cancer, yes. Whether they are affordable or effective enough to be used as a worldwide drug remains to be seen when human trials are cleared."_

"_What you haven't told us, Marata-san, is whether the nanites have side effects."_

"_None have presented themselves in the testing on mice, but human side effects cannot be confirmed due to a lack of human testing, as I previously stated."_

"_Thank you for your time. Now, it's time for the local news and forecast. I'm Arai Kouzuki, and this is Fuyuki Morning News."_

Chagatai finished his last fried egg sandwich, wiping his mouth with a napkin and mulling the discussion over in his head.

"Nanites, huh? About time, they've developed nanotechnology to the extent that I can change the colour of my clothing while wearing it. A medical application is long overdue," he turned to the door. "Isn't that right, Uncle?"

His uncle laughed, moving from his position leaning against the door to join Chagatai at the table. Otori Seiichi had always been renowned for his silence, and Chagatai had detected him from across a kitchen with a TV on in the background. _Am I _too _awesome? _Chagatai had always loved his uncle, who had taken him in after the untimely death of his father twenty years before. At twenty-six years of age, Chagatai had overtopped his uncle by a head and a half, though he still respected and revered the man.

"Good morning, Chagatai. How have your studies been treating you?"

"I still struggle with drawing energy, but I can cast it from both hands now, and I can use most electrical devices."

"That is excellent for a Magus of your age, my boy. I did not master the draw until my years surpassed thirty. Keep at it, and you shall succeed."

Chagatai could not help but smile at the unfailing kindness of the man, despite the shame their family had endured over the centuries. Seiichi was the greatest kind of instructor, never losing his patience. Whenever Chagatai had failed to learn a new art or technique, Seiichi would calmly ask him to try again, offering advice on technique and execution, while Chagatai would usually fall into a black mood typical of his father's son. It was probable that Seiichi and his wife Mai simply viewed Chagatai as the son they had been incapable of having themselves. However, he loved them just as much as he had his own father, and the stories of his mother, who died in childbirth. He had not, however, learned his mother's name, due to the Otori tradition that naming the dead was taboo.

"Now, Chagatai. It's a little early, but I want you to see something." Chagatai stood, depositing his plate in the sink.

"What is it, Uncle?" Seiichi smiled, but not in his unfailingly kind way. This was the predatory smirk of a man certain of victory.

"Would you like to see your Catalyst?" Chagatai found himself sharing the grin.  
"Uncle, I would like nothing better."


	2. Chapter 1: A Storm Gathers

_I understand that my prologue sucked. This disappoints me, as sloppily short passages are irritating and do not deserve to exist. That is why this has taken so goddamn long to write. And no, I'm not going to tell you who Kage is. It's easy enough to work out on your own._

_I also did a poor job of explaining the current state of the Grail. As I said in the prologue, this is an alternate timeline sequel. Waver, Shirou and Rin couldn't destroy the Grail, but they destroyed All The World's Evil, or Angra Mainyu. Its determination to be summoned into the world is gone, as it is now just a path to Akasha, but evil-aligned Spirits can still be summoned from it._

_R&amp;R-ing is appreciated, as I love knowing how to improve on my work. Show no mercy. Ok, maybe a little mercy. I will also attempt to improve on my formatting, as that is also shocking at present. Thank you for bearing with me._

* * *

**BE**

**3 years before the War**

The pain. That was all he remembered, all that he could recall of every day he had ever lived. Each morning he had been dragged kicking and screaming off a bedroll and thrown into the Matou worm pit. At least, he had kicked and screamed when his legs had worked. Now he just screamed. It seemed pathetic, in retrospect, given that he was a 32 year-old man, but they didn't care. They said his name wasn't Makiri anymore. They had taken away everything, and he didn't even know why. All he knew was the worms. Even when he wasn't in the pit, they squirmed through his blood and everywhere under his skin. They _itched._ But he couldn't scratch them. His elbows had ceased to function. Today there had been no worms. Today he had been spared, and could concentrate. He decided to start with the very, very basics. _My name is Abram Makiri. No, no, no. My name is Matou Zantetsu. I do not come from Russia, I come from Japan. My family were chased away from Russia a long time ago, but I was still there, so they fixed me. Does being fixed always hurt like this? I wish I had my legs, I miss walking. Why do I miss walking? Why do I feel anything? _He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening. _Oh, no, they were just late with the worms this morning. Is it morning? _A worm twitched under his eye and he felt himself pass out from the pain.

He regained consciousness in what appeared to be a small tea room. His legs were tied beneath him in a crossed position and his back was tied to a post so he didn't fall over. _How considerate of them. _Through his milky, ruined eyes, he could make out a tiny man before him, white-haired and frail-looking. A small, steaming cup was in his hands, from which he sipped tea at regular intervals, approximately every five seconds.

"U-ugh… aagh. Ooh-ugh?" Zantetsu attempted to ask who the man was and where they were, but all that emerged was piteous grunting noises. _I suppose my tongue went while I slept. _

"Ah, Zantetsu. You're awake." The old man smiled at him, showing worn-down, blackened teeth.

"Uuuugh…" Zantetsu felt a large worm crawl about in his arm, and pain flared up from his radius to his shoulder.

"It hurts, yes?" Instead of attempting a reply, Zantetsu simply nodded. The man frowned. "I'm very sorry about that, Zantetsu, but it's very important that you go through the pain you feel now. You see, the Matou family are very, very rich. Our Masters in the past have gone through a lot of pain, like you, and they were broken, like you. We couldn't fix them. However, all the pain they went through made them very, very strong. However, we have spent a very large amount of money to fix you using something called nanites. They're very small and they've been programmed to fix everything the worms have done to you, but the strength you obtained from them will remain. You won't have to hurt anymore." _Ah, he's nice. I'm not sure I trust him, though. _The sliding door to the tea room opened, and a black-haired man stepped into the room, wearing a slick black tuxedo.

"Zantetsu, this is Marata Itumi. He developed the nanites, and you will be his human trial. Are you alright with this? If you say yes, I'll get everything cleared and you can start immediately."

Zantetsu's eyes brightened slightly as he nodded with a cough. Itumi walked across to him, followed by a giant of a man in a suit, pushing a wheelchair in front of him.

"Hello, Zantetsu. I can tell just by looking that you're shaping up to be a very powerful Magus indeed. I'll get Shigeru here to put you in that wheelchair, but with a bit of luck, you won't be needing it soon." The huge man untied the knot binding Zantetsu to the post and lifted him up by his shoulders, placing him in the wheelchair. The man's fingers squished a worm next to his shoulder blade and it bit his flesh in surprise. Coloured spots appeared in his vision and he heard himself screaming, before the darkness clouded his vision and he ceased to see anything.

* * *

**AR**

**3 years before the War**

Sweat poured down Chagatai's bare chest as he finished his ninety-sixth chin-up on the long steel bar in his bedroom, positioned between two aluminium poles. As he dropped to his bedroom floor two feet below him, he rolled his shoulders, embracing the burning strain he'd put on them. Grabbing a towel from on the floor, he wiped most of the perspiration from his half-naked body and rubbed his face and hair dry. He threw the towel away and picked up a long-sleeved black t-shirt, seeing strands of white dropping into his vision. _Hair's getting too long. _He pulled the shirt over his head, leaving his bedroom and departing for the training hall across the grounds.

His booted feet crunched on gravel as he crossed the Otori orchards, consisting of a mixture of apple and cherryblossom or _sakura_ trees. They were arranged in a repeating pattern, and Chagatai repeated it in his head as he walked by. Apple, cherryblossom, apple, cherryblossom, apple, cherryblossom… He pushed it out of his mind as he reached the double oaken doors to the gigantic training hall. Lanterns burned at ten-foot intervals on every wall, casting a dim glow over the cavernous chamber. Approximately ten thousand square meters of rice paper covered the interior walls, with cherrywood beams holding the sheets together. Approximately twenty meters in front of Chagatai stood Seiichi, dressed in plain black training robes and holding a wooden practice sword. Chagatai plucked a similar blade from a rack and removed his black leather jacket, letting it fall to the ground with a muffled _thump_. He proceeded to take an elastic band from his pocket, tying his now shoulder-length white hair behind his head in a neat horsetail. Removing his shoes and socks, he was now dressed in his long-sleeved black shirt, with its sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a pair of khaki combat trousers. As he walked towards the training ring, he rolled his wrists to make them supple, the training blade carving invisible rings in the air.

"No pads?" Seiichi raised a challenging eyebrow. Chagatai had been training with the Otori family head for just over a month now, and he went over Seiichi's strategy in his head, as he spun the sword in his hands, twice forward, once back, once forward, once back, twice back, once forward. He passed the white, painted boundary of the training ring, and a sudden calm descended on him. The red eyes of the Otori locked, and Chagatai took his stance.

"Pads are unnecessary weight. While I can be almost certain that other Masters may be stronger than me, I doubt there are any that are faster." Seiichi smiled.

"Excellent work, Chagatai: Boosting your strengths to cover your weaknesses."

Seiichi leapt forth without warning, and Chagatai blocked a forehand slash with incredible speed. _Your enemies will not ask you if you're prepared. _Chagatai pushed his uncle's blade aside and leapt to the left as Seiichi attempted an overhead slash. The old man's blade whistled down Chagatai's right arm, missing by a hair's breadth. Chagatai pivoted on his left leg to face Seiichi, knocking a stab aside with his blade and coming back around with a backhand slash, his uncle leaning back so the blade skimmed the front of his robes.

Seiichi retorted with two slashes and a thrust, which Chagatai knocked aside with ease. As he blocked the third blow, he leapt back a few steps and took a moment to catch his breath. Circular breathing kept him relatively calm and collected in most fights, but Seiichi was an exhausting opponent. This time Chagatai took up the attack, feinting at Seiichi's face before pulling his blade back and striking for his stomach with a forehand slash. It connected, the wooden edge sinking deep into the training pad beneath Seiichi's robe with a _thunk _and lifted him off his feet, sending the Otori family head crashing to the floor. Chagatai exhaled loudly, raising his arms to rest the sword across his shoulders. He'd gotten a hit in, but morning practice was far from over. Seiichi stood, rubbing his side before dropping back into a fighting stance and beckoning Chagatai once more. With a grunt and a forehand slash, Chagatai leapt into the attack once more.

* * *

**AS**

**3 years before the War**

The name he had been given was simple, self-explanatory and effective. Kage. It meant 'Shadow', as that was what he had to be in the war for the Grail. However, of all the names he'd ever been given, this one was by far the closest to his own, his true name. Not that anyone could ever know what that was. In truth, he didn't even know who 'they' were. They just named those that needed to die, and Kage destroyed them. In return, they sheltered and fed him. It was a simple, understanding relationship that had been kept up for five years already, and showed no sign of degrading or changing. However, they'd begun to show interest in the Mark. He didn't know what it was, but they frequently spoke to him about it. From what he could understand, the Mark made him someone very, very important. A Master. When the time came, he would summon the spirit of a hero. They said that they would arrange for him to summon a Servant that would fit well with his nature, called 'Assassin'. That was his purpose in the Grail War they told him about. To be a Master, and win the Grail for them, by killing all the others.

Then they'd find the one who killed Hikari. Hikari had been Kage's twin brother and partner, whose name had meant 'Light'. This name had suited Kage's brother, as he had always been kinder than him, merciful and swift in his duties. Kage swiftly purged the memory from his immediate thoughts. Although he was only fifteen, he had to keep his heart hardened to everything. They had told him not to worry if he did show emotions, but they said it was best if he could suppress them. Killing was what he had been born and raised to do, and it wasn't the greatest life he could have - they had been honest about that - but they kept to the promise that he could leave whenever he chose, he just didn't want to go. There was nothing for him out there, and shooting, killing, extermination of the impure and evil was all he was good for. He received a background on every one of his targets, and he had never refused to kill one purely on the grounds that individuals like the ones they targeted did not deserve to live. Drug dealers. Warlords. Rogue Magi. The scum of the earth, attempting to bring civilians and the pure of heart down to their level.

Today, he hunted a drug lord. A man who took advantage of others' desperation and brought them comfort with substances that dragged them deeper into the shadows. Today, it ended. Kage stood up from his sitting position on a low, rickety single bed in the tiny Cairo apartment they had provided for him. Even though the air conditioner worked reasonably well, the air was still stuffy and Kage felt perspiration beading on his brow as he strode into the bathroom. It was oddly well-equipped, for Cairo. The shower worked, although it ran cold, the faucet ran well and the toilet flushed. Along another wall was a bathtub, though the piping that brought water into it was in pieces on the tiles. As the bathroom had no electric lights, Kage found his way using the single skylight on the ceiling. On a tiny shelf next to the sink, he kept a small container of shaving cream for his thin yet irritatingly stubborn facial hair, a toothbrush and some paste to use it with. Kage ignored all three of these, filling the sink with lukewarm tap water of questionable chemical composition. In the small, cracked mirror before the sink, he saw a grim image looking back at him. Dead, grey eyes, with shadows under them that befitted the name he'd been given. His dark brown hair, although soft and reasonably clean, had grown too long, falling down around his ears and curling slightly at the ends.

Kage dipped his hands into the water, bringing them up quickly and scrubbing the dishevelled face that he called his own, washing off the grime, sweat and dirt that the day had brought him. He dried himself off with a small towel, ignoring the droplets that had fallen onto his white t-shirt and straight-leg jeans. Towel-drying the last few drops out of his hair, Kage returned to the bedroom, where his weapons were arranged on the floor. His two combat knives sat beside his remodelled Calico, next to which was a large, single-shot handgun. Kage left these aside as he picked up a thin carbon nanotube knife-and-bulletproof tactical vest and put it on, before pulling a jet-black hooded sweatshirt over the top of it. Sheathing the combat knives, he attached them to braces and slid them up his sleeves, the handles ending just above his wrists. The Calico entered a holster on his left side, the handgun on his right. Strapping belts across his shoulders containing several spare magazines, Kage added the final effect of his gear, the gas mask. The eye slots provided limited vision, but he could also toggle thermal and night vision cameras. The perfect tool for any assassin. With that, he left the apartment.

8:42 PM. That was the reading on Kage's watch as he perched on a rooftop overlooking his mark's compound. The guards at the main gate would be switching shifts. That meant twice as many if he attacked there. The barracks at the north-east corner would have less men inside with eight at the gates, but the guards being relieved would be there within three minutes, or thirteen if they stopped at the main building for a cigarette. The night was cold, so Kage assumed they wouldn't be smoking outside. That left him three minutes to clear the barracks and lay an ambush for the returning guards. Easy. Prana flowed as he strengthened his body before he leapt, the wind blowing at him momentarily before his booted feet hit the ground in the north-east corner of the compound. The barracks was ten meters away, a long, single-story building made entirely of concrete, with an iron door on the east side. Always unlocked, as the guards had become lazy in their easy success. Walking briskly, Kage screwed a silencer onto the Calico.

There would be three guards inside, and they would be dead before they could hit the alarm three meters from their bunks. Kage opened the door, and the first, a six-four Arab with a bottle of beer in hand, turned to face him. Before he could react in the slightest, Kage had put three bullets in his head with nothing but suppressed gunshots to show. The second guard turned from his laptop to face Kage, but was gunned down before he could grab the assault rifle next to him. The third was asleep, and Kage slit his throat with the combat knife in his left sleeve. He had a hundred and thirty-three seconds before four more arrived. He locked the door, before removing a small bag from his shoulder. From this bag, he removed his trump card: C4 plastic explosive.

Fixing it to the wall above the doorway, he concealed the bodies just out of view from the door, turning a duvet over to conceal a bloodstain. With forty-eight seconds to spare, he left through the single window on the north wall, dashing through the shadows to reach a spot from which he could see the door. He found one between two large trash cans, with thirteen seconds to spare. He heard chattering, and crouched lower as the four guards walked past. Clutching the detonator, he waited. _Eight. Seven_. They reached the door, and tried it. The leader fumbled for the key. _Six. Five_. He found the key, inserting it into the lock. It turned, and clicked open. _Four. Three_. The door opened, sliding smoothly on its hinges, the guards walked in, one of them snapping a question. _Two. One. _They'd found the bodies, and they were all inside. Kage activated the detonator. The eastern half of the barracks temporarily turned into a fireball, and Kage had 96% certainty all the guards had died instantly. The explosion meant that the mark would be in his panic room within a hundred and ten seconds. That gave Kage ample time to enter through the fire escape on the roof and intercept him in the third floor hallway of the main building. He made for the fire escape ladder at a sprint, leaping up and grasping the ninth rung, ascending as fast as he could.

He reached the roof in fifteen seconds, and destroyed the lock on the door with a small work of thaumaturgy. He opened the fire escape, descending the stairs three at a time. The guards at the gate and within the main building would be rushing towards the barracks in a remarkable act of idiocy, though the mark's two bodyguards would accompany him to the panic room, which he was now eighty seconds away from. Twenty seconds until the mark reached the point in the hallway where Kage would take him down. He heard footsteps near the bottom of the stairwell and froze. One guard. From the sound, under six feet. Kage caught a glimpse through the doorway. Pistol, knife. Seventy-one seconds. Eleven until he reached the point. Kage drew his second knife, twisting around the doorway, and dove towards the man. He must have sensed his presence, because he twisted immediately before the knife connected and grabbed Kage's wrist. Before he could shout a warning, the young assassin clamped his right hand over the guard's mouth, driving a knee into his groin. His opponent's grip on Kage's wrist loosened, and he twisted free. With a stab, the blade slid between the guard's ribs, and he turned to dead weight in Kage's arms.

Three seconds until the mark reached the point. He wasn't going to make it, although he was sprinting through the halls at full pelt, panting and sweating. Cold atychiphobia settled in, and Kage whispered under his breath.

"_Time Alter. Double Accel!" _Kage's heart began pounding in his chest as he rounded the last corner, and it leapt at the sight of the mark walking beside his two guards. In a flash, the Calico was out and the guards were dead with holes in their temples. Kage drew both knives, leaping at the mark. His arms and legs connected with the drug lord's body first, driving him to the floor, before he plunged the knives into the mark's throat. He turned the corpse's head away from him to avoid the spurting blood, before putting on a single leather glove, dipping a finger into the congealing pool, and, with utmost precision and care, drew a bloody yin-yang, the symbol that he and Hikari had always used. With distant footsteps and shouts ringing into the night, Kage reloaded the Calico and prepared to hunt down the remainder of the city's underground chain of command.


	3. Chapter 2: Marata

_So, now you get some answers. Tuvarkz stated in his review that Kage seems like a "Potential Kiritsugu 2.0". This is entirely correct. He received Time Alter knowledge from the Clock Tower because they viewed him as a reasonably suitable heir to it, as they recovered the tomes from the Emiya island after the Executors attacked. Also, a note on Zantetsu. I thought I made it obvious enough in Chapter 1, but there have been some misunderstandings. Zantetsu is the heir to a separate branch of the Makiri family that remained in Russia. As the Matou in Japan can no longer use sorcery, the unnamed old man from Chapter 1 found Zantetsu as a child in Russia under the name Abram Makiri, before adopting him and putting him through the Matou training. Oh, and please forgive the improvised medical procedure in this chapter, I know nothing about anaesthesia. _

_R&amp;R, please!_

* * *

**AR**

**3 years before the War**

The Otori spies had found three. Only three other Masters. The first was Tohsaka Renzoku. He was nineteen years old, but his aptitude in pyromancy already outclassed his ancestor Tokiomi. Evidence given by Mao suggested that he intended to summon Gilgamesh, King of Heroes. This had been highlighted as a gigantic problem, so Renzoku was the largest immediate threat. The second was Matou Zantetsu, a strong Magus, but so broken he would be unable to fight. Shigeru had been unable to discern who he intended to summon. Not a problem, seeing as the man went about in a wheelchair. The third, either Aienosviel or Ariasviel von Einzbern, homunculi. Serra said their Catalyst was supposedly some form of book, meaning their Servant could be either anyone falling under the Caster class, or a literary figure. Chagatai looked away from the corkboard on which he had pinned all this information to his own Catalyst, sitting in a glass display case. It was one of the most beautiful swords he had ever seen, a fine steel blade three feet long, thin enough to drive between the ribs of any man his Servant saw fit to kill. The hilt was carved horse bone, forming the shape of a white wolf's head. Chagatai longed to carve something apart with it, but the blade was well over a thousand years old, and would likely break. However, when his Servant held it, it would be restored to its former glory.

A bowl of apples sat to his left. He had been in here, theorizing and developing strategies for an hour, and he had already eaten eighteen. He particularly enjoyed those that grew in the Otori orchards, the same scarlet as Otori eyes. He sincerely hoped that the War wouldn't damage the orchards, lest he never eat them again. Pulling himself away from fruit for a moment, he began working on strategies once more. The Einzberns' Servant would likely be powerful, but neither Ariasviel nor Aienosviel was a particularly powerful sorceress. Chagatai could probably dispatch either one of them without having to fight whoever she summoned. Looking at the purple eyes and silvery hair of the girls in the photo, however, he felt a pang of guilt at the thought of murdering them.

* * *

**LA**

**2 years before the War**

It was always when she didn't want her surname mentioned that Kotomine Rei's surname was mentioned. The last thing she wanted appearing on her hand, a Command Seal, had appeared on her hand. She had received word from the Magus Association, the last people she had wanted to hear from, asking her to be a mediator in the 7th Holy Grail War, the last thing she wanted to do. This week was already going very well indeed. Looking left to the sleeping man she had spent the previous night with, she reflected that life wasn't too bad. Sometimes she questioned her choice of using thaumaturgy as an instrument of seduction, but right now, she was all for it. She got out of bed slowly, the cool, conditioned air making her naked body shiver. With her rehearsed seductress's stride, she walked across her small Athens apartment to the kitchen, and, yawning, put some coffee on. Placing a mug under the drip, she patiently awaited her drink as the coffee machine hummed loudly. Without noise or warning, her man embraced her from behind. She turned in his arms, placing her own around his shoulders and leaning into his caresses. He picked her up by her butt, carrying her back to the bed and gently lowering her down to it, the duvet cool against her bare back.

Rei had always been incredibly pale, and thankfully, she didn't inherit her father's boring brown hair and corpse-like grey eyes. Instead, she had taken on her mother's long, brown locks and haunting, dark blue eyes. Remembering her duties, she focused prana on her vocal cords and spoke to her man. "Not now, my love. I have matters to attend to." He stopped, the pain clear in his eyes.

"You know not how I long for you." His rich English accent could melt butter, but she worked her way out from under him, embracing him and pressing herself against his nakedness.

"Oh, I know, my love. But we cannot." He held her closer, and she felt him stirring.

"Why must you deprive me so?" He looked over her, his eyes admiring her body, as Rei felt herself give in a little more to his voice. "I implore you, my love. Let me please you." _Why are English accents allowed to be so goddamn tantalising? _

"I'm sorry, but you really need to leave."

He sighed, releasing her. She stood and found some clothing, then retreated into the bathroom to dress. The ambassador from the Clock Tower, a certain Charles Velvet, would have arrived in Athens last night, and she needed to meet him at noon. It was now eleven.

She left the apartment at eleven twenty-five, heading to a small tourist café in the town center. Despite the time, the sun was beating down, and Rei was glad of the sleeveless tank top and shorts she wore as she passed the bus station and a small crowd of British tourists. She rounded another corner and entered the café at eleven thirty-three. The owner, Litza, was a rather large woman, though she was incredibly kind and could make Rei laugh with ease, for they knew each other well. Litza's dark eyes lit up at the sight of Rei, a tiny little bell ringing as she opened the door.

"Hey, Rei, baby girl! What can I get you, tea? Coffee?"

"Morning, Litz. Something cold, thanks." Litza grabbed a can of something from her fridge and tossed it at Rei, who caught it with an outstretched hand and took a seat at a table for two.

He ended up making her wait an hour. Three empty soda cans and the remnants of a slice of cheesecake littered the table when Charles Velvet entered the café, and when her name was called out questioningly in a gorgeous English accent, Rei's jaw dropped. It was her man, six two, short brown hair, dark grey eyes and all. He was dressed smartly, in a black waistcoat and matching tie over the whitest shirt she had ever seen. Upon seeing her turn at the name, Velvet raised an eyebrow, smirked, and took a seat at the table.

"I don't believe we need to make introductions, my love." _God damn it._

"No, we don't, do we? So, mediator." He smiled at the awkward change of subject.

"Yes, you need to sit in a church until everyone is either dead or Servant-less."

"Sounds boring."

"You also need to protect Masters whose Servants are killed."

"You're really not selling this for me." He smirked again, stifling a chuckle.

"Now the fun part. You see," he peeled off a skin-coloured patch on his left hand, revealing a scarlet crescent, a peculiar 's' shape and a small circle. "I have quite a lot invested in this War. I'm going to summon one of the most powerful Servants ever to exist, and let's just say that impartial mediators in the Grail War are very rarely as impartial as they seem."

"You want my help." He laughed.

"In a nutshell, yes." Rei smiled, leaning back in her seat.

"You think one night with me warrants an alliance?"

"Yes."

"You're absolutely right. But if you mention Kirei again, I'll cut your throat. I broke off from the Church when I was thirteen, and my loyalties don't lie with it."

Charles took a small square of paper from his shirt pocket, and unfolded it to reveal a blueprint of the Athens Museum of Greek History. He pointed to a room in the west wing.

"In a display case in this room is what the Magus Association knows to be the skull of a legendary warrior, slain by the one you will summon. Problem is, we have no way to obtain it without causing a legal shitstorm. However, we have reason to believe that you are in possession of a kind of thaumaturgy that will… persuade the curator to allow us to borrow it." Rei giggled, knowing now that Charles had willingly fallen under her spell the night before. He tapped the lobby on the blueprint.

"Tonight, the curator, Costas Neffeki, is holding a fundraiser at the museum. It would seem you're invited." He pressed a forged invitation into her hand. "Make sure you dress nice, and don't screw up."

* * *

**CA**

**2 years before the War**

The Einzbern Castle was never warm. That was Ariasviel's first thought on most days, when Lyn and Serra lit the gigantic hearth in her bedroom and laid out a fur robe for her to wear that day. The castle was completely trapped in another era, all dresses and banquets. Ariasviel hated it. Serra told her that a long time ago, a man brought in technology from outside, but Jubstacheit abhorred it, and destroyed it all when the man betrayed the Einzbern. Ariasviel just wished there was some of it left. There was only so many times you could stare at the dozens of swords and suits of armour that adorned the halls before you started getting sick of it. The only thing that interested her was the study of sorcery. She had only ever learned the basics of healing, but every time she improved, she began to mean more to Jubstacheit. She would prove herself worthy of being the Master, and receive the Command Seal. However, she was in competition with her sister, Aienosviel. Jubstacheit told them three years ago that whichever one of them learned the most sorcery by the beginning of the War would receive the Seal and summon the Einzbern Servant, while she that showed less aptitude would act as a vessel for the Lesser Grail. Given that becoming an over-decorated wine glass was not in Aria's best interests, she had been applying herself more than ever.

Ai had also been studying hard, and the two sisters were on par. Aria had only two years to outclass her, or she would have to be the Grail's vessel. Aria rose from her featherbed, and Serra descended on her almost immediately with a comb, placing her in a chair next to the full-length mirror on her bedroom wall. There were very rarely any knots in her waist-length, silver-white hair, but Serra was always incredibly thorough, spending no less than twenty minutes combing every last inch of her hair. Over the slight noise of the comb, Aria heard Lyn running a bath next door. Serra spoke about matters of little import, and Aria pretended to listen as she spoke of her husband and her children. After about twenty minutes had passed, Serra put the comb aside and led Aria to the bathtub, removing her nightdress and waiting for her to lower herself into the steaming water before picking up a bar of soap. As Serra scrubbed Aria down, the girl knew Lyn would be laying out a dress for her. It was mid-winter, so it was likely fur of some sort. Another twenty minutes of her morning flew by in the bath, before Lyn towel-dried her off and Serra combed her again, before they both assisted her in dressing.

The dress would have looked nice to most others, she supposed. However, Aria didn't particularly care about clothes or etiquette, she just did as she was told to curry favour with Jubstacheit. It was fur and silk, very fine materials, in black and red. She didn't know any of the terms to describe how it fitted, but it hugged and exaggerated her curves, and she wore black, elbow-length gloves with it. As soon as she had it on, she informed Serra and Lyn that she wanted to spend some time alone that morning, so they retreated to their quarters while Aria headed to the Great Hall for a moment of contemplation. In a locked, enchanted glass display case, the Catalyst rested on plush. It was an ancient tome, dating back well over a millennium. To be precise, the end of Rome's rule of Britain. This particular book had been unearthed next to Excalibur's sheath, Avalon. This was a book of arcane nature, pertaining to the greatest and most famous Magus ever to exist.

Merlin.

* * *

**BE**

**2 years before the War**

Leather straps bound Zantetsu to the bed. He was told he would struggle while he was under. He didn't mind pain anymore, so he would power through it, and be glad when he found out if the nanites worked or not. If he died, it wouldn't matter. It wasn't like he had any life in him anyway. Marata approached, carrying the briefcase. Zantetsu already knew it contained the syringes. The worms were moving around again, particularly a group in his left leg. His leg convulsed reflexively, but he did his best to ignore the pain and the straps kept the movement small. Doctor Marata placed the briefcase on the table next to the bed, and opened it. Zantetsu caught a glimpse of a large syringe full of fluid, and Itumi worked his way through the mass of tubing plugged into Zantetsu, reaching the side of his neck. Just before he inserted the needle, Marata pulled an oxygen mask over Zantetsu's face, and he felt a sharp scratch.

"Morphine." Zantetsu nodded as the doctor grabbed another needle from the case. Zantetsu felt a sting on a different patch of his neck.

"Sodium pentathol. It will render you unconscious." Zantetsu tried to relax as he ceased to feel anything, and the tubes began filling with blue liquid working its way down to his skin as the darkness covered everything and he felt his consciousness slip away from him.

The pain Zantetsu felt as he woke was lesser to that he felt when he emerged from the worm pit. The worms weren't moving, so he opened his eyes. He could see further. The ceiling was white and tiled, and there was a fan above him. He wanted to laugh in joy, but his body was so numb that his vocal cords wouldn't respond. He sat up, pushing himself out of his lying position with his arms, which could bend again. As a final test, he wiggled his toes, then his ankles, then shook his entire legs.

_I can move. _

Only his arms and legs and spine responded to his brain, but Zantetsu managed to pull himself out of bed and stand. He could stand. Though his memories of walking were foggy, he managed to take a few shaky steps towards the mirror on the whitewashed wall in front of him. The man that stared back was better than Zantetsu had ever seen him. Though his hair was still white and matted, his skin had lost its previous grey tinge, and was a relatively healthy shade of pink. The shadows under his eyes were gone, and those eyes weren't ruined and milky white, they were violet, deep and shining. He looked at the rest of his body. He was dressed in a blue and white hospital robe. He was too thin. He would have to start exercising soon.

The door opened, and Marata Itumi entered. Zantetsu walked to him, slowly.

"I see you're awake. How do you feel?" Zantetsu's tongue began moving properly, and he attempted speech.

"I'm thantathtic, thlank oo." Marata laughed.

"Alright, maybe you should wait a while before you speak. How many days do you think you were out?" Zantetsu thought for a moment, before raising five fingers. Marata chuckled again. "Not quite. We had you under for two weeks. The worms put up such a fight that you were screaming in your sleep before we made them docile. You were lucky to have survived. However, your eyesight is better than it was before the worms, and with more nanotech, I've added layers of contact lenses that will allow you to see in the dark and turn on a thermal camera with neural signals. Try it." Zantetsu thought about it, and suddenly Marata was a red, white and orange blob against a green room. He concentrated again, and his vision was regular again. He felt the numbness subside in his mouth and tried to speak again.

"I can't thank you enough." Marata smirked.

"No need, the Matou paid me close to a trillion yen. I have science funding for life." Zantetsu smiled at this.

"Good. You deserve to be able to finish your research. Do you need more human trials, or was my case enough to prove that they work?"

"They've been active in your bloodstream for a week, and there haven't been any visual side-effects, even on a sub-atomic level. You'll be fine."

Zantetsu hugged the man, feeling a tear of joy running down his cheek.

"I will thank you anyway, despite the ridiculous amount of money you have. You've changed my life, and your research will save millions." Marata wriggled free, that ever-present grin on his face.

"Thank you for being my trial, Zantetsu. I'm glad I could help you. Good luck with your studies, you will be a powerful Magus indeed. I hope we will meet again, but if we do not, then I wish you all the best. Farewell." Zantetsu, too, hoped that they would meet again. He felt himself grin as Itumi left the room and his life with it. Without warning, his hand began to burn. He looked, and saw a red mark swirling into place, a circle with wavy lines protruding at regular intervals. A Command Seal.


	4. Chapter 3: Calling

_Now, here. Here is where I prove whether all your speculation on the Servants was right or wrong. Enjoy the night of the summoning. Also, if you regularly review this story, check your PM inbox. I'm quite partial to people who take the time to theorize an__d tell me how I'm doing. As always, R&amp;R, please. C:_

_P.S. Some of my representations of the Servants are __different to how Fate portrayed them. AU, remember?_

* * *

**AR**

**The eve of battle**

Chagatai knew above all else that he was prepared. Tonight, the Tohsaka would be moving the skin of the first snake, and tomorrow, Renzoku would summon Gilgamesh, an act that all but guaranteed Chagatai's defeat. Tonight, the heir to the Otori was being sent to stop it. The training hall was equipped very differently tonight, racks of body armour and live weaponry arrayed in the center of the vast room. Chagatai browsed, already dressed in his typical black shirt, black boots and dark grey combats. He selected a shirt of body armour. Its thinness, flexibility and transparency told him it was graphene. _It would take an elephant balanced on top of a pencil to break a sheet of graphene the thickness of kitchen foil_. Chagatai recalled Seiichi's lessons on material choices as he removed the t-shirt to don the graphene underneath it. His eyes already contained Marata patented night-vision contacts, and he had equipped himself according to the mission. He had a combat knife strapped to each thigh, a third in his boot, and five throwing knives on each shoulder, their hilts protruding slightly. Across his back, slung in an ancient-style baldric was his katana, and slung over the sheath was a crossbow, the quiver at his waist containing 30 regular bolts, 10 laced with novocaine, and 5 incendiary bolts. Pulling his trademark shirt back over his head, he slung a small bag over his shoulder and left the training hall.

The night was pitch-dark and freezing, and Chagatai felt goosebumps rising under his shirt as he crossed the Otori orchard to his favourite apple tree, plucking a particularly exquisite specimen from a low branch and taking a large bite. Juice and sweetness filled his mouth, but he couldn't finish his apple. With sadness filling his heart, he tossed the family treasure aside and set off to cross the city to the Tohsaka estate.

Sticking to dark alleyways, backstreets and dimly-lit rooftops lengthened Chagatai's journey to about thirty-eight minutes, but as he perched in a tree overlooking the Tohsaka estate, he congratulated himself on his timing. He looked closer at the well-trimmed gardens and saw the red lines that guaranteed his detection if he left the safety of the perch. He looked around, picking out an iron box about thirty meters from him as the source of the detection beams. Unshouldering his bag, he removed a small piece of adhesive tack with a blinking red light on the end. Unslinging his crossbow and removing a regular bolt, he fixed the tack on the end, and, accounting for the additional mass, took aim slightly above the box. He pulled the trigger and in an instant, the bolt struck home and the localized EMP kicked in, disabling the device and the detection beams. He was home free, and the shot would have been virtually undetectable. He leapt from the tree, landing on all fours with a dampened _thud_. The lights were off in the Tohsaka mansion, and the separate structure containing the vault which held their Catalyst would be opening in - he checked his watch - two minutes. He dashed through the shadows of the trees that lined the garden, reaching the back wall of the vault building. He threw himself at the highest handhold he could reach, finding himself on the roof in seconds.

Chagatai drew the crossbow once more, fitting anaesthetic bolts into both of the rotating barrels. Crouching at a vantage point well-hidden by overhanging trees and the cover of night, he awaited the Tohsaka men. A single light flickered on in one of the windows of the house, and two silhouettes moved. Men. Tall. Strong. Chagatai hoped the novocaine would be enough. After a few seconds, the front door opened, and they walked out into the night. One was about six-three, a brown-haired, stocky, Russian-looking man. The second was shorter, about five-ten, black-haired, and quite clearly Japanese. Both of them carried shotguns. He heard movement beneath him and instinctively held his breath as two Aryan-looking guards emerged from the vault. One of them carried a large briefcase. _The snake_. Chagatai took aim as the two groups greeted each other. The two blonde men were European, Norwegian by the sound of them. He'd been right about the Russian and the Jap. Upon seeing the briefcase, the two men from inside the house raised their weapons and began looking. The Norwegian man with the briefcase pulled out a pistol, and the other one had already been carrying a UMP-45 submachine gun.

The second Norwegian was in Chagatai's sights, but his lungs were beginning to cry for oxygen. There were four enemies no more than five meters away from him. A loud gasp could have ended his life. Tracing every slight motion of his target's neck, he checked his sights one last time and fired, the barrel rotating immediately as Chagatai took aim at the Russian with the shotgun. Another bolt struck him, and he and the Norwegian fell to the ground. The Jap and the second European panicked, crying out as Chagatai leapt from the roof, readying prana. The Japanese man barked a warning and aimed at Chagatai. _Moron_. As the muzzle of the shotgun flared, a ripple appeared in the air before Chagatai, stuck in which he found a shell, which he plucked out with as much dramatic effect as possible, inspected it for a second and then dropped it to the ground. The carrier of the briefcase shouted something in his native tongue and they began emptying their weapons at Chagatai, barrels blazing as bullets sank into his defensive sigil. Slowly, he began advancing, reholstering the crossbow and drawing his katana. His adversaries' guns clicked empty, and they began to run. Chagatai laughed as he took up the pursuit, descending first on the Japanese man, closing the gap between them in seconds and driving the blade between two vertebrae, before catching the Norwegian in the legs with a pair of throwing knives and finishing him with a crossbow bolt in the chest. Just before Chagatai could grab the briefcase and run, he heard shouting behind him, and turned to see three more Tohsaka henchmen sprinting out of the mansion.

Chagatai had blown his cover of stealth, and his sigil needed to cool down. This left him very few options, as the men were taking up firing positions. He turned towards the lamppost to his right, its light pooling around his feet. He turned and began climbing as fast as he could, shattering the lamp's glass covering and finding a wire. He grinned.

"_Draw. Circuit._"Sparks flew as electricity flowed from the lamp's power source to the lamp, from the lamp into his hand. Sorcery already had the energy moving around his body in a loop, so he dropped from the post as the Tohsaka men finished loading their weapons, raising his hand and lining up a prana path in the air. Just before the firing order came, he unleashed the energy in its base form, the electricity flowing along the prana path as lightning bolts, electrocuting and striking down the Tohsaka henchmen. With that, Chagatai had about fifteen seconds. He grabbed the briefcase, shaking C4 plastic explosive out of his bag and stuffing it in next to the cloth-embalmed skin of the first snake. He closed the case, throwing it towards the vault and made a beeline for the trees. _Sorry, Renzoku. No King of Heroes for you_. He palmed the detonator as the briefcase landed with a crash, vaulting the estate's perimeter fence and retreating through the woods. He pulled the trigger and dived forward to relative safety as the explosives tore apart the skin, stone, cloth and briefcase. Landing and rolling, Chagatai stood again, and without looking back at his handiwork, started at a jog back towards the Otori mansion.

* * *

**SA**

**The eve of battle**

"I sincerely hope you're joking." The sun was beginning to rear its head to the east and Renzoku had been woken long before he intended to be by an explosion in the garden. A guardsman, a 22 year-old German by the name of Franz, had just informed him of the events of that morning's small hours.

"I'm afraid not, Tohsaka-dono. Seven of our men have been killed and the skin has been destroyed." Renzoku smirked in his odd way, his eyebrows crinkling and one corner of his mouth turning up.

"Is that right?" Standing up from his position on his father's old desk chair in the office, he walked over to the old portrait of Tokiomi, removing it from the wall to reveal a safe. Entering the combination with rehearsed speed and accuracy, he opened the safe to reveal a single black box, approximately two by two by one feet. It was made entirely of stone. Grasping small handles on the side, Renzoku lifted the box and placed it on the table that the portrait had hung over, opening the container.

"You see, I was prepared for someone to try and destroy or steal the skin, so I had a Tracing Magus prepare a counterfeit."

Lying on velvet plush was the skin. He lifted it, catching a glimpse of something small and square and white. Setting the skin down with utmost care, he picked it up. It was a folded square of A5 paper, which he quickly unfolded to reveal a short note in beautifully neat handwriting:

_My dearest Renzoku,_

_It would seem you thought you were prepared with your fake skin. This is incorrect. You see, someone who you assume to be a leal servant of yours is, in fact, a leal servant of mine. The skins have been switched. You now hold the counterfeit provided by the Magus Association. I, on the other hand, blew the six thousand year-old priceless artefact to smithereens. I wish you luck in the Grail War; as a Master who now lacks a Servant, you're going to need it._

_Much love,_

_O.C_

_P.S. No, I'm not summoning _him _instead. Far too arrogant for my liking. Anyhow. Goodbye._

Renzoku set the paper down, a cold sense of realization setting in his chest. He felt perfectly calm, but for some reason his face was hot and his hands were shaking. Carefully clasping his hands, he quietly requested privacy. The guard left immediately, closing the door silently behind him. Renzoku waited until his footsteps had faded before tossing the false skin across the office.

"_Inferno_." The hottest fire he could muster reduced the skin to powder. Sinking down to his knees as ash rained around him, he held his head in his hands.

"Well," Renzoku cheerlessly muttered to himself, "Fuck."

It took him six hours to emerge from his study, perfectly calm and prim as usual. Walking alone, he entered a small display room, taking time to appreciate each item. Eventually, he came to something particularly intriguing. A set of two-thousand year-old bamboo slips. They had been excellently preserved, and showed no signs of their great age.

He turned to a nearby bookshelf, carefully checking each spine before coming to a single book, picking it from between the others with three fingers. He flipped through, scanning the vast sea of words for what he needed. After many pages, he came to it. A smile spreading on his face, he approached the slips again. _There is hope yet._ Holding the book up to the evening light, he began to read.

_"He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared._

_If it is to your advantage, make a forward move; if not, stay where you are._

_Anger may in time change to gladness; vexation may be succeeded by content._

_Though a kingdom that has once been destroyed can never again come into being;"_

With a quiet _thump_, the book closed.

_"The dead may yet be given life."_ In front of the slips, blue light began to shine, and the Seal on Renzoku's hand began to burn with a ferocity he had never seen. A circle spread across the floor, shining blue. After a time, it dimmed, and alone in the display room with Tohsaka Renzoku was, clad in lacquered steel, his Servant.

Saber.

* * *

**RI**

**The eve of battle**

Cow's blood formed the summoning circle, and the tiny scrap of fabric sat atop the altar. Charles's Seal began to glow as he spoke the words, an odd mixture of terror and exhilaration forming a numinous feeling in his chest.

"_I hereby propose._

_My will shall create thy body,_

_And thy sword shall create my fate._

_Abiding by the summons of the Holy Grail,_

_If thou dost accede to this will and reason, answer me!"_

* * *

**LA**

**The eve of battle**

_However amazing this Servant may be,_ thought Rei, placing the skull on her makeshift end table altar, _It is NOT worth fucking Costas twice. _The circle had been etched out by Charles before he left, and odd symbols and shapes covered the ground about her feet as she slowly said the words she'd memorised the night before. _It's the same as Charles's, so it can't be _that _tough_. Finishing the ancient words, she shielded her eyes against the light that emanated and clenched her fist against the fire she felt building on her hand.

Finally, the sensation passed, and she lowered her hand to behold what Charles had picked out for her. He stood well over six feet tall, long, silvery hair falling to his waist. His cheekbones and jaw were perfectly set and his eyes were a haunting violet.

"So, Lancer, huh?" He turned to her, a wolfish grin spreading across his thin, red lips.

"It would seem you're my Master." _Was that… disappointment?_

"So, Master, shall we get to the killing, or would you like to get to know me first?" Rei focused prana on her vocal cords, drawing him in.

"Now, my Servant, all you need do is listen."

* * *

**AR**

**The eve of battle**

Seiichi was the one who placed the Wolf Blade on the altar, smiling kindly as Chagatai took his position in the circle. A knife shifted, and his blood dripped into the circle. Due to their bloodline, it would act as a support Catalyst.

"_From the infinite plains of the vaulty heavens,_

_Thy sword driveth my destiny,_

_Thy bow marketh my dreams,_

_Thy reins steer my life._

_With blood and the blade,_

_I bid thee heed the Grail's call,_

_And smite those that oppose us."_

Chagatai watched as his blood combusted, the small flame lost quickly in the vast light of the summoning. _Finally. _The blue grew so large and intense that he perceived it as white. _After all these years, the Otori can restore their honour._ The light began to fade, and Chagatai blinked repeatedly to readjust his eyes as a giant came into view, a huge man with dark skin, long hair and a thin, pointed moustache. Bowing his head, Chagatai picked up the Wolf Blade and offered it to him. As Archer's fingers touched the hilt, the ancient, dull steel grew bright and fresh and sharp.

_This_, thought Chagatai with a grin, _all but guarantees my victory._

* * *

**BE**

**The eve of battle**

"_But let chaos cloud thine eyes,_

_Thou, who art trapped in a cage of madness._

_And I, who doth hold thy chains!"_


	5. Chapter 4: Altercation on Kiyomizu

**AS**

Assassin had been with Kage in Fuyuki for no more than two days, and the waiting game they played with the six other Masters was beginning to drive them both slightly stir crazy. They had taken up side-missions in the process of awaiting the others, an d in the past forty-eight hours Kage and Assassin had apprehended three ordinary drug dealers and killed a rogue Magus who had made his base in the sewer. However, Kage wasn't being nearly careful enough, so he had asked Them to make preparations. What he had received was quite perplexing: Two graphene body armour vests, two white dress shirts, two black trench coats, two black ties, two leather belts, two pairs of black leather gloves, two remodelled Calicos, two Contenders, four knives, twelve grenades and two identical pairs of shiny black dress shoes.

He and Assassin were now dressed identically, and Kage had hidden their true features with his Indistinction thaumaturgy. With this cloaking them, they always appeared not quite visible; like trying to discern someone's features in a dark room. The purpose of this act was to make it impossible to tell Master and Servant apart - no enemy would know which Kage to target. Kage took a moment to take in the apartment They had provided. It was larger than others he'd stayed in: two relatively generously sized bedrooms (They made certain to provide for Assassin), a large living room with a sofa and an eighteen-inch television, as well as a well-equipped bathroom and small kitchen.

Naturally, Kage had been probing the area with familiars, but they had only detected one Master: Charles Velvet, in command of Rider. No usage of Noble Phantasms had been detected, there had been no combat between Masters and the vast majority of Kage's familiars had been destroyed. He knew not who by. However, he was fairly certain that the suburban district in the south-east reaches of Fuyuki that he had made his base was empty of other Masters. He knew that the Einzbern Master would be resting to the north in a mansion, the Tohsaka held the fort on their estate to the east, and in the north-west the Matou household was also quiet. Velvet was in a large house in the business district in the south-west of the city, near the river. That left two Masters completely unaccounted for. Kage had also requested that They conduct a search of the city as well. As yet, nothing.

Assassin had suggested luring the other Masters out by engaging Rider. They had spent the entire evening strategizing, and Kage knew from personal observation that Velvet would currently be leaving the house to grab basic groceries at a store eight-hundred meters from the residence. Whether he was accompanied by Rider was unknown. On Kiyomizu Bridge, Kage and Assassin would lay a trap. By reinforcing road blockers on both ends of the bridge, they would box in Rider and Velvet. As both ends would be reinforced and he and Assassin were identical, there would be no way of knowing who had used the thaumaturgy. Kage's identity would remain hidden, Assassin could potentially annihilate one of their six opponents and they would succeed in attracting the attention of the rest of the Masters.

As the clock struck nine, he and the silent Assassin donned their trench coats and departed. Kage had instructed that they communicate through no means other than telepathy, and that they travel separately. They exited their apartment building, crossing the empty suburban street to a pair of black Kawasaki Ninja motorcycles. Kage took the bike parked to his left, Assassin carefully matched Kage's walk as he strode towards the bike on the right. After starting up, Kage drove west, along Kyoya Avenue, while Assassin drove south. Wind rushed through his hair as he rounded corners and worked his way south-west, towards Kiyomizu Bridge. At three points, he and Assassin crossed paths briefly, until Kage finally arrived at the bridge. Velvet would now be returning from his shopping, and would be crossing in five minutes, from the end Kage now stood on. Assassin arrived a few seconds later. Kage reached out to his mind. _Get the guard_. The man entered the toll booth, and a few seconds later the road blockers rose from the ground. No cars approached, so Kage stooped and began reinforcing the blocks.

* * *

**RI**

Charles never failed to be slightly perplexed by the total lack of cars on Kiyomizu Bridge at this time of night. As it was so peaceful, he opted to walk in the middle of the thoroughfare, gently swinging the plastic bag from the store he'd just visited, containing energy drinks, another controller for Rider's new game console and a vast bag of oven fries. With his footsteps echoing in the silent night, he began whistling. He couldn't have been any more than halfway across the bridge when he heard footsteps other than his own. _I hope Rei hasn't_ _decided to irritate the shit out of me in a public place this time_. He lifted his gaze from the asphalt and met that of a man on the other end of the bridge. The figure walked slowly, menacingly towards him, black tie swaying slightly with each step. Given the distance, he couldn't make out any distinctive facial features. For some reason, Charles couldn't figure out if his hair was brown, black or grey, as if it could never quite catch the light properly.

Another set of footsteps. Charles turned, and saw another figure, dressed identically. His face and hair were shifting constantly, like the one behind Charles. _Indistinction thaumaturgy_. These were Magi, no doubt. They were both slightly closer now, lamplight pooling at their feet. Without warning, Charles felt a chill creep up his spine, and cold fear settled in his chest.

"I don't know who you are," he called in a shaky voice, "But I suggest you cease your advance immediately. I am here on behalf of the Clock Tower. I know you are Magi. If you do not back off immediately, I'll… I'll…"

"You'll what?" Two voices echoed across the bridge. _Oh, very clever, Charles. You're alone and unarmed. They are numerous and probably armed. Rider is back home. You are a mediocre Magus, a mere fifth generation member of a family that began studying thaumaturgy from pillow talk. _

"I'll ensure that you are apprehended by Enforcers of the Magus Association." A chilling laugh met his answer.

"No, you won't. Notifying the Enforcers requires having a head." With that, both men drew knives. Charles searched desperately for an escape route as the two men closed in.

"_HALT!_" A deep, authoritative voice boomed across the bridge. All three of them turned to the end of the bridge, and Charles's heart leapt at the sight. A giant of a man was walking slowly towards them, made noticeable by his shock of red hair and bushy scarlet beard. He wore armour, a large cloak and a fur mantle, and at his waist was a sword. _Rider_.

Charles's Servant stopped about ten meters from where the first figure stood. The young man heard muttering, and without warning they both stood between Charles and Rider. The great man laughed aloud, his arms across his chest.

"You think you can keep me from defending my Master?" He drew the blade slowly, the soft sound of metal on leather emphasized by the contrasting silence. The identical men drew more knives, dropping into fighting stances. Hope began to rise in Charles's heart. Rider raised the blade. "_I NEED THAT SECOND CONTROLLER SO WE CAN PLAY CO-OP_!" Fury showed clear on the face of the Servant as he held the sword up to the sky.

"_I am Alexan__der the Great, King of Macedonia, and with this strike, I declare my dominion!" _With those words, clouds began to boil above them, and the two men threw themselves aside as lightning began seeking them out with deadly bolts. Charles seized the opportunity to run to Rider's side. He looked skyward as a great hole was rent in the clouds, and an enormous chariot burst forth from the sky, drawn by a pair of gargantuan oxen. The beasts bellowed as lightning rained down around them, sparks flying as the vast spoked wheels of the chariot touched down. Vast blades ran along the sides. This was truly the weapon of a king.

Rider grabbed Charles by his collar and hoisted him into the vehicle, preparing to ride down the…

_Where are they?_

The two men were nowhere to be seen. Charles slammed his palm against his head, sinking to his knees.

"You idiot. While you were putting on your big light show, they escaped. I imagine half the city heard that. Now, who knows which Masters have seen?"

"Even if Saber or Berserker or anyone else slaughters us in the next five minutes, it will have been worth the look on their faces. Did you see, boy?"

"No," replied Charles with a roll of his eyes, "Because we can't see their faces, you lying bastard." Rider's face turned a shade of red outclassed only by his hair.

"Ah… well, let's get back, shall we? Can't have my fries defrost-"

"I'm afraid I can't permit that." A prim accent, clearly the voice of someone very noble or very arrogant, cut through the cold night air. No more than three meters from the Gordius Wheel stood the most imposing figure Charles had ever seen. He stood well over six feet, snow-white hair reaching down past his shoulders. Though most of his face was concealed by his fringe, a very faint red glow emerged from underneath. He held an apple in his left hand, a generous bite taken out of its side. Charles had no idea of this man's strength, but the very sight of him was terrifying. He attempted speech.

"A-and just who are you, exactly?" The man held the apple up to the moonlight, and didn't even flinch as an arrow came out of nowhere with a faint whistle and took the fruit straight out of his hands, jamming itself neatly into the solid iron bridge support behind him. Underneath that white fringe, equally white teeth flashed in a wolfish, predatory grin. Underneath the man's boot was the bag. With a single stamp, plastic cracked and springs, wires and other bits skittered across the pavement. Rider's face contorted in genuine agony.

The king regained his composure quickly, meeting the stranger's ruby stare with his own gaze.

"I know not who you are, stranger, but you are within direct trampling range of my Gordius Wheel."

"Firstly, Archer has an arrow trained on your Master's head. Attacking would be unwise. Secondly, charging me would be useless. This distance would leave your speed so low I could push your little toy car away with my little finger." Charles froze. _An arrow. Great_. He held still for a few seconds, before Rider began laughing.

"I see. You were gauging us. But," He leaned towards the young man. "Killing us now would, I think, be _far _too boring this early on in the War. You're in this partly for enjoyment, it shows in that faint little glow of your eyes." The stranger grinned, before turning away.

"I only mean to restore the honour of my family, which was thrown aside by a fool, many years ago. Now, Alexander, King of Macedonia, you have earned a name by revealing your own." Rider smiled at the small display of chivalry as the stranger began to walk away, towards the northern half of the city.

"I am Otori Chagatai, and I will be your death."

Charles's jaw dropped. Otori. _Oh, no. _That name had been hidden in the oldest tomes in the deepest depths of the libraries at the Clock Tower. The Otori Clan, whose actions still terrified the old bloodlines. _Oh, no no no. _

Otori Maiko. That was the name. He had been the Master of Lancer in the First Grail War, three-hundred-and-ten years ago. A Magus so powerful that he fought Berserker, the spirit of Siegfried, and tore him in half with his bare hands. The Master who summoned him had fled, but Maiko hunted him down and ordered Lancer to tear his head off. It was these atrocities that resulted in the removal of the Otori clan from the Grail War, until one arrived who was pure of the malice that fuelled Maiko's actions. _If Maiko could tear Siegfried apart alone, just how powerful _is _Chagatai? _Charles didn't even want to think about it, but he felt a shudder as he watched Chagatai reach the end of the bridge and vanish into the lamp-lit maze of Fuyuki.

"Boy, you look decidedly pale. Just who _is _that man?" Charles set his face straight and grabbed the hem of his shirt to stop his hands from shaking.

"That," He replied, "Was Otori Chagatai. I don't know how old his family is, how powerful his Servant is, how powerful _he _is, or how he's even here." Rider burst out laughing at this, and Charles had to roll his eyes.

"We know nothing of the enemy. Into the unknown, then? That will surely make the battle even more exciting!"

"Rider."

"Yes, boy?"

"While your ridiculous spirit and willingness to rush to your death is admirable, you're an idiot."

"While your ridiculous scepticism and willingness to mock my bravery is admirable, you need to buy another controller. And I'm pretty sure my fries have defrosted. Also, my last Master didn't buy me pants. I want pants."

"You can have pants when you do your job."

"He said that as well, and he never did it. I had to get the pants myself."

"I'm not him."

"So, you swear that if I slay a foe, you will buy me pants?"

"Yes, Rider. I swear." The King of Conquerors whooped, pumping his fist in the air. "Now come with me, there's something I want to show you."

It took half an hour for the Gordius Wheel to fly the necessary distance to reach their destination. It touched down on the roadside, and Alexander was visibly shaking in excitement as they stepped down onto the beach. Before them, the Pacific Ocean stretched out infinitely into the horizon, black against the moonlight. Rider stepped towards the waves, sinking to his knees in the sand. Water lapped up against the king's knees and he traced his fingers through it, smiling as a single tear dropped down his face. Charles stood behind him, an open book in hand. _The Memoirs of Waver Velvet, Lord El-Melloi the Second, Part Three, Volume Two._

"_After the Ionian Hetairoi dissipated, only Rider and Gilgamesh remained. My King made a valiant charge across the bridge, continuing even when several blades had pierced him. It was Ea that struck the final blow, and I will remember Rider's last words until the day I die, and until the end of time, when my service to him ends. As his blood flowed, he thought only of his dreams. 'The beating of my heart was the sound of Okeanos's waves.'_"

Rider stood, brushing sand from his knees.

"Just like him to write a damn book about it." Charles smiled at this, snapping the book shut.

"It was actually fifteen books. You were in five of them."

The king laughed, shaking more sand from his red cloak. "Would you mind if we stayed here a while? I spent my whole life searching, and you've finally taken me to Okeanos. You've realised my greatest dream, boy."

"We can stay as long as you want. Anyone who won the heart of my grandfather deserves at least a night at the beach if he wants one."

"When does the game store open again? We still need that controller." Charles laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Nine A.M. We'll get you back in time. Oh, and I'll get you pants while we're out."


	6. Chapter 5: A Clash of Knights

_If I'm honest, I'm not really sure how to explain my absence (besides my laptop breaking, then the laptop that I had to replace that laptop breaking, then my computer breaking, then school, then mock exams, then more school, then real exams), and I am SO sorry for the dead months of no material, but after 373,000 years, Fate/WarN is back! Woohoo! Another crappy AU fanfiction!_

_Also, ENORMOUS shoutout to Spiderrock, who is using my character Kage in his Fate SUPER ULTRA MEGAFIC OF AWESOMENESS "The Final War". Don't worry about spoilers, as Kage's Servant has a different identity, but read it. It's freaking amazing in every conceivable way and I'm glad to have even been a small part of something so awesome. He also wrote Kage incredibly well, even though I've written very little about him._

_Anyway, enjoy chapter 5 or whatever._

* * *

**CA**

Although the Grail War had commenced scant days ago, Aria was already celebrating her own victory; After years of intensive study and currying favour with Jubstacheit, she had _finally_ surpassed Ai and won the right to carry the Command seal of the Einzbern family. Ai now spent her days in a tower of the Fuyuki manse, while Aria had the run of the place and the constant companionship of Caster. It all seemed rather surreal; the spirit of a man from storybooks was keeping her company, idly chatting, discussing strategy and telling stories. Her Servant was every bit the stereotypical old wizard; His eyes were large, grey and wise, set deep into a wrinkled, wind-beaten face. His hair was long and white, and his beard too. He wore dark blue robes which flowed past his feet, and a hood that he drew up whenever Aria took him outdoors to examine and reinforce the wards and Bounded Fields that protected the manse. Despite his age and appearance, he was remarkably vigorous; his posture was ramrod straight, and his old grey eyes shimmered with a strange light. He walked briskly everywhere he went, sometimes leaving Aria behind to struggle in her long dresses.

That morning, Aria and Caster were in the East Tower's solar, with a map of Fuyuki spread out before them. The solar was small, yet lavishly decorated; the map rested on a table of carved ebony, the floors were polished hardwood and tapestries hung from three walls. A large bay window took up the eastern wall, through which light from the recently-risen sun was now streaming.  
"Who do you believe we should make our first target?" Aria questioned the old man incessantly on tactics during Magus wars, but this was the first time she'd asked anything related to their current situation.  
"If you cared much for the opinion of an old man, I'd tell you not to burn bridges, but to build them. First, I advise that you use my familiars to scout out the other Masters and assess their Servants, abilities and weaknesses, before choosing an ally from the best of them."  
"How do I know which is best?"  
"That's entirely circumstantial," replied Merlin, "In fact, we may find that none of them are suitable as allies at all."  
Aria frowned. "Honestly, are we powerful enough for you to win on your own?"  
"I'm not powerful enough, no. However, we are collectively. You know enough about healing and defensive magic to play a full support role while I keep up an offensive barrage. Anything that comes too close will run straight into defence sigils, wards and traps of various kinds." Nodding her understanding, Aria took a sip of tea from a cup resting on a small table.  
"Very well," she sat back in her chair, watching as a small bird took flight outside. "How soon can your familiars spread across the city?" Caster grinned, his eyes dancing with their uncanny light.  
"Ten hours ago."

* * *

**BE**

_Marata is a lying asshole. __Marata is a lying fuck. __Marata is a lying bastard. __Marata is a liar liar liar liar liar. _Zantetsu clawed desperately at his chest as it burned up in agony. _No side effects, he said_. What was this pain? It was totally unlike the worms, which were now under his control, but a thinly spread chaos that consumed him. Not the sharp, concentrated agony of before, but an indiscriminate assault on his senses. It had been several years coming, but Zantetsu was only now feeling the impact of the tiny DNA-based computers in his body. This impact, he had found, was incredibly severe. He was constantly convulsing and clawing at himself, and any food or water he ingested found itself rejected by his digestive system and spewed up on the floor in a pile of acidic vomit that burned his throat as it emerged. The Matou staff did what they could, but the ancient Magus house lacked the medical proficiency or experience to alleviate Zantetsu's suffering. As such, he found a temporary solution in the vast overapplication of morphine. The Matou Master became aware that he was on the floor. The cold wood contrasted heavily with the pain in his face, which now felt like it was being scratched with a piece of hot glass. Rolling onto his back, he mustered the courage to push himself into a crouch and grab his morphine syringe. Sighing, he inserted into his arm, still shaking from the pain. Soon, the powerful anaesthetic began to set in, and he finally managed to get shakily to his feet. Normally, the morphine would have rendered him immobile, but the machines inside him kept all his brain tissue, neurons and muscle tissue functioning under the effects of drugs. Burning agony aside, they were fairly useful.  
He began walking, slowly at first, out of his room. He navigated the dim hallways of the Matou household until he reached the tea chamber of the black-toothed old man. Opening the door, he stepped into torchlight and came across the man who was, as usual, drinking tea. He made it so strong that the stench of the leaves permanently smothered the whole room, oppressing the senses with what should have been a pleasant aroma. The man stood and turned, smiling as a tiny trail of steam from his drink snaked up into the air.  
"Hello, Zantetsu. Are you hurting again?" He wished the man would stop being so kindly.  
"I was," he replied, raising the empty syringe in his hand. "Glad these things help me stand. Pain is less useful, though."  
"I can imagine. Would you like some tea?"  
"You like puke on the floor?" The man's nose wrinkled at Zantetsu's reply.  
"I suppose not," he put down his cup and began pacing the room. "So, what brings you here?"  
Zantetsu frowned. "Need to find Marata," his fingers tightened on the syringe. "Unfinished business."  
"I paid him a lot of money for the gift he gave you. You're not going to kill him."  
"Powers are a gift," the Master responded, "Pain isn't."  
"Without him, you'd still be crippled and broken."  
Realisation struck Zantetsu. "Without _you_, still whole."

Long ago, near the start of the Fourth Grail War, the Japanese branch of the Matou family had lost their ability to use Magecraft. That was why he'd been adopted from the Russian Makiri family all those years ago. The frail old man who'd tormented him for all those years was powerless, and it showed on his face as Zantetsu called on his power. A cavernous hole opened in his leg, and an enormous worm crawled out of it. Invoking the sorcery of his house, Zantetsu ordered it forth. Whimpering, the figure that had terrorised Zantetsu for the entirety of his living memory backed away across the room. The smell of tea was overtaken by a rich, meaty stench as the old man lost control of his bowels. With a blood-chilling shriek of predatory victory, the worm descended on its prey. Zantetsu turned away as his tormentor died, tearing a torch from the wall and leaving it to catch on the wooden floor.

As the flames consumed the mansion, Matou Zantetsu tossed the broken corpse of the old man's henchman, Shigeru, into the flames. He had broken quickly, for one so muscled. Critically, he had unveiled Marata's location: A small safehouse in Eastern Fuyuki. _Good luck, Marata Itumi_. Zantetsu pulled up the hood of his black sweatshirt and turned his back to the flames. _My name is Matou Zantetsu, and I'm going to tear you limb from limb_. Realisation hit him for the second time that day.  
"Not Matou Zantetsu." He grabbed a chain on his neck and pulled it from his sweater. At the end of it was the Matou family insignia. Ripping the chain from his neck, he threw it into the fire.  
"I am Abram Makiri."

* * *

**SA**

"You're certain they'll be here?" Renzoku anxiously checked their surroundings for the third time that afternoon. Saber sighed and shook his head. He and Renzoku together simply looked like a couple of one-percenters wandering the streets. At present, they were loitering by the docks as the sun hung low in the sky over the bay. Saber looked stiff and uptight in his three-piece black business suit, whereas Renzoku seemed significantly more casual in his simple red shirt with a black tie and waistcoat. He'd grown a lot from the pitiful young boy who feared his father. His large blue eyes, previously filled with sadness and fear, had now grown hard and cold with determination. Despite the complaints of everyone who saw it, a short beard now adorned his chin.  
"I am certain, Tohsaka-dono. The patterns established through my research of your familiars' findings are accurate, for certain. They will be here soon." Renzoku checked his watch again, watching the seconds creep by. It was nearly 4PM, the time that Saber had predicted they would meet their opponent.

Just as Renzoku was losing his faith in Saber's prediction, he heard two voices growing closer. With a hand signal, Saber dematerialised as a young woman turned the corner into the docks loading area that Renzoku now occupied. By her side stood a tall, lean man with long, silver-blonde hair. With a wry grin and a confident stride, Renzoku approached the pair. The man looked him up and down with calm precision, the woman with what felt like something else entirely. Renzoku felt a little heat rush to his cheeks, but swiftly quelled it.  
"Good afternoon," began Renzoku, sticking his thumbs in his belt. "Lovely day out, isn't it?" The girl smirked and took a couple of steps towards him.  
"Isn't it?" she replied, the smirk spreading to a smile. "Seems a bit of a waste to spend it all alone in a secluded place like this." Renzoku, in response to this, closed the gap between them and forced some eye contact.  
"Well, I could say the same to you. Besides," he said, "I'm not alone, Kotomine Rei." Her eyes flickered briefly in surprise, before returning to their even, calm state. Her companion bristled like a maddened tiger.  
"That certainly changes things," Rei replied. "Just as I was thinking you were my type, you go on and tell me you're a Master too. Lancer!" the man beside her began glowing with ethereal light, and his t-shirt was replaced by a set of ornate steel armour, a spear appearing in his hand. Rei approached, placing a hand on his chest.  
"The only thing you did more stupid than revealing your role to me was coming here without your Servant. It's a shame, really. Your naivete was kind of cute." At that, Lancer stepped forward, raising his spear for a stab straight into Renzoku's throat. He closed his eyes as the spear whistled its deadly song through the air, before his ears were met with the _clang_ of metal on metal. As Renzoku opened his eyes again, Saber pushed the spear aside with his sword and delivered a powerful kick to Lancer's chest, sending him sprawling. Grinning, the spearman threw himself back to his feet and dropped into a fighting stance. Rei stood back, allowing her Servant to take the reins, while Saber's lacquered steel armour covered him. Renzoku brandished the Kindlestone in his pocket, ready to invoke flames at a moment's notice.

Lancer ran a finger across the blade of his spear, his violet eyes alive with a haunting light.  
"And so it begins." Saber rested his own blade across his forehead, readying himself. He spoke in a level, authoritative tone.  
"I disagree; this is where it ends for you, albeit somewhat prematurely."

* * *

_I admit this is a bit concise, but that's because your next chapter is Lancer vs Saber and Abram going to mess Marata up. That's gonna take some writing, so I'll try to get it done quickly. Please love me, I'm sorry I was gone for so long._


	7. Chapter 6: The Story of a Shadow

_I tried to get this out as quickly as possible while also not writing more badly than I usually do. It's a difficult balance to maintain. Anyway, enjoy the first battle between Servants! As always, leave a review! I love to be told how terribly I'm doing._

* * *

**SA**

With every clash between Lancer and Saber, Renzoku felt more and more in awe at the sheer scale of their abilities. Lancer, his face lit up with total joy at the challenging duel, contrasted heavily with Saber's calm, collected concentration. They seemed totally on par: Saber sidestepped a spear thrust and leapt forward to counter, only to have his blade knocked aside by the back end of Lancer's spear shaft. Lancer attempted to sweep his adversary's legs out with the spear, but Saber caught the weapon and counter-swept with his left leg, knocking the spearman to the ground. He attempted to get a slash in, but Lancer was back on his feet and defending again in an instant. Sparks flew with every meeting of their weapons, and both Masters observed in total admiration of their mortal dance. As yet, no Noble Phantasms appeared to be in use other than their weapons and armour. Panting, the Servants broke apart and rested for a moment. Lancer grinned.  
"Honestly, old man, no one's been able to dodge my spear this often before." he said. Saber allowed a corner of his mouth to turn upwards for a moment, in what could only have been an attempt at a smirk.  
"I am surprised; your arrogance has not yet been your end. You are the first to last so long in the path of my blade."  
"Now, now, Saber. Watch yourself. My _confidence_, which you so falsely label as arrogance, is what makes me so attractive."  
"Lancer, you are only proving my point." The spearman's grin grew wider.  
"I don't think so. The only point that needs proving here is the one on the end of this spear!" His sudden leap back into the fray would have caught almost any other adversary off-guard, but Saber was in a defensive stance before Lancer had closed the gap, and blocked the spear before it came within a yard of him. Lancer, from Renzoku's judgement, was the more skilled fighter in a practical sense, but Saber fought strategically and analytically, to the extent that he knew which moves his opponent would make before they knew themselves. With that kind of knowledge, practical skill on Lancer's level was not necessary for victory. All Saber had to do was read Lancer until he could turn his own attacks against him.  
Time flowed indistinctly as the two Servants battled on the docks. When the two clashed, minutes passed in seconds, but when they stood apart to catch their breath, every second seemed drawn out to a minute. By the time Renzoku thought to check his watch, he realised that only ten minutes had passed since they encountered Rei and Lancer. Looking back to the battle, Renzoku saw that the two had broken away from each other again. Saber was looking at him.  
"Master, permission to use Noble Phantasm III." At a nod from Renzoku, Saber stood back further from his opponent. Running two fingers along the blade of his straight sword, he began the incantation.

"_Zuo Dhao Zhan:  
Fervor of the Spring, Decay of the Autumn.  
Let your properties be the aspect of my blade."_

Red light began to emanate from the sword, and it transformed before Renzoku's eyes. Growing a full foot longer and developing a curved edge, the slashing edge of the reformed sword had become covered in crimson, before fading back to the shiny grey of the metal itself. As Saber leapt into the attack, Lancer assumed a more conservative stance, carefully blocking and dodging, gauging what this Noble Phantasm actually did. Saber's plan of action was simple: after wielding his sword by itself for a while, he'd fixed Lancer's mind on fighting a close-range swordsman with a blade designed for thrusting with a lacking slashing edge. Using this Noble Phantasm, Saber had completely changed his fighting style, as the long, curved blade enabled him to keep Lancer at a distance, while switching the stab-centric straight sword for the curved blade with a lethal slashing edge. This Noble Phantasm, Zuo Dhao Zhan, was designed to force Saber's opponents to adapt or be slain. Through this Phantasm, Saber was testing Lancer's worth as a combatant at an altogether higher level. This particular curved blade, and its defensive ability to keep opponents at a distance while dealing huge damage to any that wandered too close, represented the Decay of the Autumn. Its unexpected arrival and deadliness turned opponents into dead leaves at Saber's feet. Lancer, however, was no dead leaf. Having learned of the implications borne by the new blade, he had assumed a more aggressive posture, finding tiny gaps in Saber's defences which he launched his spear into. However, Saber had a way of closing those gaps just as Lancer's spear was on the verge of striking. Eventually, their two weapons clashed, leaving them immobile from the friction between spear and sword. Lancer's spear had its point in the ground, though its butt was holding the curve of Saber's sword in place, its relatively harmless point sitting around three inches from his face. There the two stood, locked in place, unable to calculate what the other would do next. Saber's tiny smirk became a full smile for a moment as his blade transformed once more into the straight, thrust-point Fervor of the Spring. With no curve to be locked in place by the spear, the blade broke free of the friction with its now-deadly stabbing point headed straight for Lancer's face. In the fraction of a second he had, Lancer threw himself to the side, escaping with a large gash on his face in favour of a lost eye.  
Saber lowered his sword. "First blood."  
Raising an eyebrow, Lancer touched the wound on his cheek, which immediately closed up. "What blood?"

* * *

**N/A**

Marata Itumi's friends had always told him he was never concise enough about anything. He found himself remembering this every time he was in the midst of writing a scientific paper, and he remembered it now more clearly than ever as he finished up the 300th page of _Adverse and Beneficial Implications and Effects of Nano-Scale Cybernetics in Humans_. Though it pained him to think of what Matou Zantetsu would be enduring in that moment, he used that image of suffering to drive his search for a solution. The problem was that waste toxins from the tiny motors in his nanites accumulated in the human body, as the molecules were too complex to be broken down by the human body. As such, they could do nothing but accumulate, eventually reaching toxic levels and inflaming nerve endings, causing severe pain to the victim. However, his prototype solution to the problem would be completing its production in the synthesis workshop in a matter of minutes, allowing Itumi to test it on small mammals before finding a willing human subject for his trials. However, he suspected that the Matou boy was no longer an option. That meant more nanite experiments, but thanks to the Matou, the funding for such things was no longer an issue. After all, his work would change the world. The rich worm enthusiasts were all too happy to throw money at him if it meant their stupid, broken Magi were any more powerful.

And how _grateful _Zantetsu was to be a lab rat! Two weeks of experimental surgery, and the boy had hugged him. It was just too good. Allowing himself a chuckle, the dead silence he was met with served as a slightly jarring reminder of how isolated his safehouse was. He did not, after all, want Zantetsu finding him when the nerve inflammation set in. What he _did _want was a cup of coffee. It was – he checked the clock – 2AM and he still had to finish the conclusion and references for his paper. With a yawn and suddenly heavy eyelids, he shuffled into his tiny kitchen, putting a filter into its cone. Next, he dampened the filter paper with hot water – this removed any paper flavour it would otherwise impart – and poured in freshly-ground beans. _Water, allow for bloom. Water again, allow it to filter_. Such knowledge was that of a connoisseur with an awful lot of spare time. As he left the kitchen with his coffee in hand, he wondered his calling in life was that of a scientist or a barista. Shaking his head at his own sleepy musings, Itumi headed for the synthesis workshop below his safehouse, first ensuring that every door was locked. Trudging down the stairs, Marata could not shake the feeling that he was forgetting something important. Taking a sip of his drink and allowing himself to sample every aspect of the flavour, he emerged from the staircase into his workshop. Even surrounded by the comforting _whirr_ of the synthesis machines, he still had that strange feeling in the back of his mind, poking at his brain. _What have I forgotten_? He had all his research equipment down here, and he was waiting to finish his coffee before he got on to the paper upstairs. On that thought, he took a sip. His prototype would likely be done by now. He set his drink down and went to the largest of his machines. It irritated him how everything was sleek and smooth in machinery; a fanatical machinist like himself enjoyed gears and chains, no matter how advanced things got. However, the sleek devices got results, for sure. Releasing the pressure mechanisms and various locks, Marata retrieved the test tube of his solution and headed back for his coffee. With a start, he remembered what it was he hadn't done. _Shit, I didn't-_

"Lock... windows?" said a voice from the shadows. Itumi nearly jumped out of his skin. His voice trembling, he called out:  
"Wh-who's there?" shuffling slightly, the Matou boy emerged into the dim light of the basement. He looked feverish, and he was shivering. An abscess marred the skin of his right arm.  
"In _pain,_" groaned Zantetsu, doubling over with a shriek before quickly correcting himself. Itumi fumbled around under his jacket, eventually finding the holster of his gun. A small pistol, but it could take out the Matou boy with ease. Zantetsu glared at him in total disdain.  
"Wanna _shoot _me?" Itumi's hands shook as the man stepped towards him, grinning. The scientist was frozen in place as Zantetsu simply plucked the gun from his hand. He became aware of a feral, predatory clicking sound behind him, and turned to find a gargantuan worm staring him straight in the face. He suppressed a whimper as the Magus tossed the gun aside and picked up Marata's prototype. His eyes lit up.  
"This... will it help?" When Itumi didn't answer, Zantetsu gestured and the worm slid itself onto the scientist's shoulders. "_Will it help?_" even while raised, the Master's voice was still threateningly cold. Marata collected his thoughts.  
"It's possible, but it's completely unteste-"  
"Don't care," interrupted Zantetsu, "Just need... stop pain... no drugs. Withdrawals soon."  
_He needs me_. Itumi decided to take a less cowardly stance. "And _why_ should I help you?" the boy indicated the worm with a nod of his head.  
"He's hungry," The worm ran its rough, slimy feeler along Marata's face, and he felt sweat beading on his forehead. "Feel like... helping now?"

Itumi's answer to the inflammation problem was a chemical solution that neutralised the acidic waste products from the nanites, forming a harmless nitrate and water. However, as the acid from the nanites was constantly being produced, the solution had to be inserted through a drip. Attaching the drip was a simple enough procedure, but Zantetsu, wary of the doctor, attached a worm to him, vast jaws continuously hovering over his throat. _Quite the twisted insurance policy_, thought Itumi as he programmed the dosage into the tiny IV computer next to the drip. The small container was now nestled between Zantetsu's shoulder blades, and left a tiny bump visible when he pulled his shirt back on.  
"Thank you... Marata," he said, glancing at the synthesis machine. "Make more... with that?"  
Itumi nodded. "Yes, the method is programmed in. All it takes is the press of a button. Will you take this creature off of my neck, now? You said you'd let me go if I helped."  
Zantetsu cocked his head. "Did I?" Itumi felt cold teeth slice straight through his jugular and corotid artery, then a warm flowing sensation as his blood burst forth from his throat in a crimson stream. He didn't feel himself hit the ground, only the sharp agony in his neck as his lifeblood fled from him.

* * *

**LA**

Rei could only look on in awe as the two heroes duelled before her eyes. The ever-shifting blade of Saber and his analytical fighting style, an immovable object, was repeatedly clashing with the unstoppable force of Lancer's speed and martial prowess. Subsequently, the two combatants were at an impasse: Lancer could not land a hit on Saber, and whenever Saber managed to graze Lancer, the wound immediately healed up. Neither seemed to be tiring, with the two constantly breaking apart for a few seconds, catching their breath and exchanging a comment or two, followed by a return to their intricate dance. The amount of time training, and the raw skill of these warriors was completely beyond Rei's imagination. Glancing over at the slack-jawed Renzoku, she could tell he felt the same. She did, however, realise that the Servants were not the only combatants. Reaching into her coat, she drew out the weapons of the Church: Black Keys. Though she was far from adept at throwing them, and only capable of holding two in each hand, she was comptetent with their use at close range. Grasping the handles of the bladed weapons between her knuckles, she advanced toward Renzoku.

She had halved the distance between them and thrown one Key before the Tohsaka magus knew what was coming. When he finally did notice, his response time was impressively fast. He sidestepped her Black Key, dodging it by inches, and sent a small orb of flame careering towards her before she'd taken another step. Narrowly dodging the flames, Rei smelled burning hair and nicked off the crisped lock with the Key in her left hand. Now within striking range, she raised the Key to slash, and brought it down with a deadly whistle. With a metallic _clang,_ the blade bounced off of a barrier of emerald, barely scratching the enormous gem. _Eh? I thought Pyromancy was his specialty as a Magus_. Renzoku's barrier collapsed in on itself, shrinking down into a small cygnet ring on his left hand.  
"I didn't know you had such fine taste in stones," Rei taunted him. "Thought you boys just liked burning shit."  
Renzoku grinned. "Just burning shit was my original intent, but my family deceived me. Turns out the fire is derived from gems." He indicated another ring, this one with a vast ruby at its heart. It flashed, and within an instant, another stream of flame was heading for Rei. With no time to stop, she dropped and rolled, once again avoiding being roasted, and flung her second Key at the Tohsaka boy. This time, he threw a small gem which shimmered then dissipated, creating a blade in the air which deflected hers, directing it into the ground and shattering it. Rei did not let up her assault. Coming out of her roll, she dashed towards him and closed the gap once more, attacking from a different direction with each Key. Renzoku's emerald barrier blocked one, and another air blade disarmed her of the second. Caught in this position, Rei was helpless as Renzoku seized the advantage. An opal at his throat shimmered.  
"_Zephyr._"

Rei felt as if she had been punched in the chest as she was lifted off her feet and sent flying backwards by a powerful gale of wind. An impact with the asphalt at this velocity would certainly result in fractured ribs, if not a shattered skull. She attempted to brace for the impact, but suddenly found herself folded in something softer than tarmac. She opened her eyes, and looked up to see Lancer's own violet eyes staring back at her.  
"Now, now, Rei. I'm busy right now, and I can't afford to keep catching you." Agitated, she slammed her fist against his chest with no obvious impact. She eased herself free of his grip and stood up. Renzoku stood next to Saber, staring with apprehension at the exchange between Rei and Lancer. Rei readied her last Key, but Renzoku shook his head.  
"I do not wish to spill blood today," He turned to Saber, "And my Servant is somewhat fatigued. We shall continue at a later date." Before she could respond, they had walked away. She started forward, but Lancer grabbed her arm.  
"Not now, please. I'm exhausted. We'll kill them soon, I promise." Seeing the sweat matting his silver-blonde hair and his shoulders heaving with each breath, Rei agreed to call it quits for the day. As she left, she turned again towards the way Renzoku had gone. Something moved in the corner of her eye, and she looked. Atop a roof stood a figure, who had clearly been watching the entire altercation. Straining her eyes, Rei could not quite make out any of its features. _Fuck it, I've fought enough today_. Leaving the shadowy figure to its own machinations, she followed Lancer home.

* * *

**AS**

Assassin materialised next to Kage as the girl left. While intervention would have been suicidal, he questioned whether it would be wise to let such a dangerous opponent walk away. Looking over his minimal equipment, he decided against pursuit. Kage had learned a lot today, and no one had tried to kill him. While none of his enemies were dead yet, he knew more about them, tilting the War ever-so-slightly in his favour. From what he had seen, every small advantage would help a great deal. He sensed that Assassin wished to discuss the events that had just unfolded, so Kage opened the conversation by turning to him.  
"Any thoughts on those adversaries?" Assassin sighed.  
"Both are more powerful than me in combat, as expected from the Knight classes. Saber is the smarter of the Servants, but lacks the martial skill of Lancer. Saber's Master has extraordinary defensive power and can keep opponents at a distance with his flames, making him seem an awkward target. However, he responds only to attacks he can see. Fortunately, I'm good with attacks he can't see. As such, taking down the Tohsaka boy will be simpler than fighting with Saber."  
"And Lancer?"  
"Slightly more problematic. He appears to have some form of regenerative ability, which will make killing him difficult. Unless it's derived from a Noble Phantasm, the only solution to his regeneration would likely be total destruction of his brain, cutting off the regenerative impulses. However, I am uncertain whether it would work. His Master, on the other hand, is far more vulnerable, though I believe she is much more shrewd than she appeared in this battle." Kage nodded in agreement.  
"I'd had similar thoughts. These two have made it clear that they intend to fight again, so I believe we should wait for this rematch, then dispatch the winner." Assassin nodded,  
"Acceptable strategy, Master. Now, we've been exposed for some time. Let us return home." Their plan of attack in place, the identical pair set off across the rooftops.

Upon reaching their apartment again, the sun had long since set and night held Fuyuki in its grasp. Kage lay on the sofa, running through tactics in his head while Assassin stood silently by the door.  
"Kage," the Servant had broken his silence unusually often that day.  
"What is it, Assassin?" were his face visible, Kage might have perceived Assassin to be frowning.  
"I would like to know what you fight for," the Servant answered. "To determine whether or not I should be following you willingly."  
Kage laughed aloud at this. _Well, if I'm going to open up to anyone, it may as well be a dead man bound to me by magic._ Raising himself back into a sitting position, he scratched his head and wondered where to begin.  
"It begins with my childhood, I suppose. I was raised on a 'farm'. It wasn't the kind with cows and sheep and stuff, but it was what everyone there called it. I had a brother with me on the farm. His name was Hikari, and he was the only person the managers of the farm let me speak to. We were best friends, partners and allies, but we still felt isolated. We wanted to talk to some other people, you know? So one day we busted out of our room and went to play with some other kids. Managers didn't like that, I guess. One of them started beating up my brother to make an example, and I couldn't think what to do to make him stop, so I just picked up some safety scissors and jammed them in the manager's throat. It took him about two minutes to drown in his own bloodstream. After that, they kept us on a different part of the farm and never taught us anything except fighting. We were good at it, and life was pretty cushy, but we still felt oppressed. So when we were seven, we ran away. Stored up some food, water and spare clothes and just made a break for it." He paused briefly, loosening his tie.  
"We hitch-hiked for days, and were about to run out of water when this huge black Jeep just rolled up. We couldn't see the driver, but when he expectantly opened the back doors we just got in and asked where we were going. Fortunately, the stranger danger stereotype didn't apply in this instance and he took us to this big compound in the middle of nowhere. We were taken to a huge room with a big TV in the middle, and some voices spoke to us through it, referring to themselves as Us. We were told that if we accepted training as killers, we could help them make the world a better place. By this point, we'd been training in combat for two years, and it was all we were really good for. We spent three years preparing, and when we began accepting missions, we accomplished every single one without much difficulty.  
"Everything changed when we were twelve. It didn't even happen on a mission. Hikari and I went out to buy food supplies because our safehouse was running low on them, and a Magus appeared out of nowhere, just rammed a knife straight into his chest and walked away. He killed my only family and my only friend in cold blood and didn't even stick around for the aftermath. I knew he was a Magus because that blade was reinforced with thaumaturgy, but I couldn't go after the guy because of the shock. I just sat there for six hours, holding my dead brother in an alleyway. Ever since Us, or They, as I call them, picked me up afterwards, I've been searching for that Magus. It's been six years, and I'm just about ready to give up. If I win this Grail War, I'm gonna use its power to bring justice to Hikari's murderer, then I'm never gonna hurt anyone again. I'm done with knives and guns and Time Altering. I want to go to college, make something of myself, but that'll never happen while I've got Hikari hanging on, waiting to be avenged. To that end, I'm fighting for peace of mind, and to lay my family to rest."  
Assassin gave no indication of his thoughts on Kage's story; he accepted the words in grim silence, and crossed into his bedroom to go to sleep.


	8. Chapter 7: Audience with the Red Magus

_Hi, I'm back. It has been 8 months, I'm aware. Sorry :/_

_Up until recently I'd completely lost my passion for writing, but I've got it back now and I'm really determined to finish this now. Sorry again, and thank you for bearing with. Love you all. :D_

* * *

**LA**

Rei slammed the doors of the old Kotomine Church behind her. Her battle with Saber had been a stalemate, but she already felt completely outclassed. Tohsaka had taken all her attacks head-on without breaking a sweat, then ragdolled her with a single spoken word. She rubbed her sore back, the pain a stinging reminder of how reckless she'd been. To add insult to injury, she wasn't even certain she possessed the stronger Servant - Lancer's sheer practical skill had been countered in its entirety by Saber's analytical fighting style. Slumping down on an oaken pew, Rei stopped to take stock. Behind her, she could her the faint shimmering sound of Lancer materialising in the room.  
"You know," the Servant began, "We should have that rematch sooner, rather than later. I don't want to leave such an embarrassing first impression on that shadowy fellow from the rooftop."  
Rei clenched her jaw, legitimately toying with the possibility of using her Command Seal to force the antagonistic little bastard to kill himself. She relaxed, sighing a little. "All calculated; a part of my impeccable strategy to claim the Grail." Rei didn't see Lancer raise an eyebrow, but she knew he had.  
"What impeccable strategy is this?" She sighed again, lifting herself off the pew.  
"I'll tell you when I figure it out. As for now, I'm embarrassed and tired and I want to sleep. Go away." Lancer gave what appeared to be the most mocking salute he could muster, before his armour dissipated, leaving him wearing a ridiculous set of rabbit-themed pyjamas he'd taken a liking to. The Servant quietly made his way to the bedroll she'd set up for him in the corner. Rei stalked off to her living quarters, finding herself lacking the heart to tell Lancer how stupid he looked.

She was surprised to find her bedroom door standing open, and the light left on. She silently drew a Black Key from her coat, slipping into the white-walled, plainly-adorned room without so much as a sound. She let out another sigh.  
"What the hell are you doing here?" she snapped. Charles lay on her bed, looking thoroughly exhausted; his tie was undone, his black waistcoat crumpled on the floor. An untouched plate of fries sat next to him, the small reservoir of ketchup on its side leaning dangerously close to her recently-pressed bedsheets. Swallowing the slight anxiety brought on by the sudden prospect of doing extra laundry, Rei repeated her question. This time Charles responded, sitting up groggily and rubbing sleep from his eyes. _How easy it would be to make it six Masters... _Shaking her head, Rei pushed her slightly murderous thoughts aside, shifting Charles's fries to the floor and sitting down next to him.  
"Who, me? I was merely tired." Rei shot him a glare, before lying down to stare at the ceiling.  
"Remember the part where you have a house?" he chuckled, undoing the top button of his shirt.  
"Afraid not; I skipped that chapter. Besides, It's not like I had a choice! Rider insisted on playing that ridiculous tactics game all night, and he claims that your ridiculously fancy Church quarters have faster Internet than my own residence." he noticed the new positioning of his fries. "Oi, I was eating those."  
"Yeah, like three hours ago. They're stone cold. Where's Rider?" Charles scratched his head.  
"Damned if I know. Any place you've got a TV he can stick that gods-bedamned console into, probably." Scratching his stubble and stifling a yawn, Charles heaved himself off her bed and, with a stretch of his arms, left in search of his Servant. Without warning, Rei noticed that she felt much heavier than usual. _Jeez, that fight must have taken a lot out of me. Maybe next time I'll walk over to that Tohsaka bastard when I cut him up, rather than dashing around like some moron out of an anime... sure is tiring, all that running around..._ pulling the soft bedsheets over her exhausted body, Rei let herself fall asleep in the dim, warm bedroom, surrounded by the scent of Charles's aftershave...

* * *

**RI**

After making some coffee to wake himself up properly, Charles found Rider half an hour later, as expected, slumped in front of the TV in Rei's living room, the rest of the fries gone without a trace. With his headset on, Rider was totally engrossed in the world of that shitty _Admirable Tactics _game, moving virtual men around to kill other virtual men, to take over virtual land... it all seemed totally pointless to Charles. Stepping over chocolate bar wrappers and empty beer cans, he reached Rider's side and tapped him on the shoulder. Rider's reaction was delayed, and he swung slowly about, looking mildly dazed at the sight of Charles before him. A huge grin spread across his face in response to the sight of his Master. "_WAVER! _Did you cut your hair?!" Charles merely grimaced. _I hope he isn't drunk._ Rider responded to his expression of disdain with a rumbling outburst of laughter, before laying his head upon a nearby cushion and immediately passing out. The King of Conquerors' thunderous snoring filled the room.  
"Did he just go crazy and then fall asleep?" Charles turned around to find Rei stood in the doorway, dressed only in her t-shirt and underwear. He made his best effort not to stare.  
"Seems that way. Excuse the mess; he's a king, and not exactly used to clearing up..." he trailed off, beginning to pick up beer cans and discarded wrappers off the floor. Rei groaned in disdain.  
"That ginger bastard drank all my beer! I hope he left the vodka alone..." Charles deposited the rubbish he'd collected in the bin, then flopped down on the sofa, his bare feet resting on Rider's gently heaving chest. Rei sat down next to him, pulling a blanket up over her legs, before leaning over to rest on his shoulder.

"_Hold me,_" she purred, blatantly using her vocal Magecraft. Charles complied, shifting around awkwardly till they were laid on their sides, then he wrapped his arms around her, tugging at a bit of the blanket to cover him as well. He glanced at the unconscious Rider.  
"Now? Really?" She glanced up and glared at him, evidently unimpressed.  
"Don't flatter yourself. I'm just cold. I wanted to talk about today." Charles lazily watched the pause screen of Rider's abandoned game.  
"Ah, quite right. You never did tell me what's caused your foul mood," the jab hit its mark, and she playfully kicked him in the shin. He suppressed a yelp of pain, faking a hurt expression. She beamed at him.  
"I fought Saber and his Master, the Tohsaka boy. I had a pretty good handle on it until I engaged Renzoku one-on-one. I think it'd be best if we took him out together," she shifted slightly in his grip, "Just to make sure he's taken care of."  
"Oh, I'm not quite sure of that," Charles replied, "A man who could take you down? What a fright! I'd much rather just stay here with you," he allowed one hand to slip up the back of her shirt, "And wait out the storm." He noticed her wince slightly at the sudden contact with her back, and quickly pulled the blanket back. She allowed him to turn her around and lift her shirt, struggling to ignore her very prominent lack of a bra. Beneath her shoulder blades were angry purple bruises, spanning the entire lower half of her back. He felt a cold calmness descend upon him.  
"The Tohsaka boy did this to you?" She nodded, her cheeks flushed a little at her awkward and scantily-clad position. "It's settled, then," Charles said coldly, "You and I are going to tear him apart." Standing suddenly, he scooped Rei up in his arms and stepped over Rider's snoozing body.  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" She kicked a little as they went out the door.  
"Not sleeping on the settee, that's for sure."

* * *

***RI***

Rider stirred from his drunken slumber, clutching his head while yawning loudly. A bright light assaulted his senses – the light from the TV. He saw his paused game, and briefly contemplated finishing it before turning _Admirable Tactics _off, cutting off the sharp ache behind his eyes. _It was my win anyway_. He cast about briefly for his fries, before remembering that he'd devoured them hours previously as he trashed his opponents online. _If only I could have conquered lands like this in my time. My empire would have been twice the size! Besides,_ he mused,_ watching Darius try to handle a controller with his titanic freak hands would have been utterly hilarious. _He chuckled at the thought, before pulling himself to his feet. He was fortunate to have been summoned by a later generation of Velvet than Waver had been – Charles, as a fifth generation Magus, was actually capable of supplying Rider with passable amounts of prana. This meant he could use his Noble Phantasms more freely than in his last war. _I wonder if I shall be seeing my army soon?_ Rider knew little of his opponents in this war. Occasionally, he could sense their presence from across the city. From what he could sense, the vast majority of his adversaries possessed incredible power. Every time this came to mind, he let a grin spread across his face. There were few things that Alexander preferred to a challenging battle against a worthy opponent. Even his sparring sessions with Lancer during their down-time served as a constant reminder of the kind of skill he was facing off against. _Now, there's a thought._

The King of Conquerors descended the stairs of the Church's living quarters, trying his very hardest to ignore Rei's cries of ecstasy from the bedroom while mentally congratulating his Master. _War and women. Charles really is living the dream_. He emerged into the courtyard to find, much to his surprise, Lancer already waiting for him. The world was still enveloped in the night, and Fuyuki's street light pollution failed to reach this secluded garden. Moonlight rippled off the plates of Lancer's armour as he twirled his spear idly in one hand.  
"You know, you give off a very distinctive signal when you want to spar. It feels exhilarating enough to rouse me from the deepest of slumbers." Rider laughed, allowing his mantle and armour to materialise.  
"That sounds exciting indeed! Must take a hell of a feeling to get you out of your bunny clothes," Lancer tried to scowl, but ended up smirking a little.  
"They are the height of fashion. Not that you'd know," the retort came over the gentle whistle of Lancer's spear as it hummed through the air, inviting Rider to clash his blade against it. Slowly and deliberately, Rider drew his sword, giving the action time and allowing himself to feel out the perfect balance of the blade, the easy sliding motion of steel on leather scabbard, time to watch the starlight glimmer on the blade's edge. He allowed himself but a moment before dropping into a fighting stance. Lancer snorted, whirling his own weapon about his body before spinning it out in front of him, coiling up to leap into the attack. The spearman danced forth, the blade of his spear striking sparks off the ground as he readied a powerful thrust. Rider sidestepped just as it came in, before coming back around with a horizontal slash. In a heartbeat, the ashen butt of the spear had knocked his sword aside, striking Rider briefly off-balance. Lancer seized the opportunity, jabbing for his chest, but Rider simply caught the weapon just below its head, wrenching it aside and delivering a powerful kick to Lancer's chest, sending him sprawling. His opponent was up again in an instant, whirling the weapon about like some oversized buzzsaw. Rider attempted to slice at the shaft of the spear with his sword, but it was like trying to hack the wings off a hummingbird: clumsy and futile. Roaring, Rider slashed horizontally again at Lancer's belly, but the attack failed to connect. Lancer saw his back exposed, and immediately closed in for a strike, but Rider used the momentum of the slash, continuing to spin as Lancer approached. Alexander rotated completely, stretching his fist out as he came back around to strike Lancer with a titanic backfist to the face. The spearman was knocked clean off his feet, giving Rider a moment to take stock. It was then that he realised that the entire courtyard was filled with enormous golems.

* * *

***LA***

He used his spear to pull himself to his feet, his bleeding nose mending itself internally. All around him, grey shapes were filling the courtyard, each standing well over seven feet tall. Lancer couldn't help but note that they were extraordinarily well-made, the earth, stone and wood that formed them making a striking, yet slightly unnatural, replication of men. He also noted that their fists were formed of granite. _It'll hurt in the morning if one of _those_ connects_. He glanced over his shoulder to Rider, who stood back to back with him. More golems were climbing over the courtyard wall. Lancer counted over thirty now, with more pouring in from all sides. _Still, even numbers as overwhelming as these cannot shake the heart of a true warrior_. He absently twirled his spear in his hand as the beasts approached, feeling the power of his Noble Phantasm flowing through his body. _Don't fail me now, old companion. Strike true and bring me victory_. With a roar and a battle-cry, he and Rider leapt together into the fray. Lancer zeroed in immediately on a golem close by, preparing to strike him. The make was authentic, but they were too slow by far. Lancer's spear blade shore straight through the golem's earthen arm like a hot knife through butter, and its stone arm crashed to the floor. Bringing the weapon back around, he quickly dashed off its wooden head and put an end to the creature. He made pincushions of the next three that approached, while Rider behind him cleaved their enemies apart like a world-class butcher at the slaughter. The red-haired King moved through his enemies like a ramming ship through a fleet of fishing boats, tearing through earthen joints and wooden heads, taking care not to dull his blade on stone appendages. Satisfied that his back was sufficiently covered, Lancer went back to work at the horde of familiars while more continued to stream into the garden. Like old Heracles and the heads of the ancient Hydra, for every golem they tore apart, two more seemed to rise in its place. Their bladework was but an exercise in futility, a butchery rather than a battle. Enough, Lancer decided, was enough. Making swift work of the two golems near him, he stuck his spearpoint in the ground, shoved two fingers in his mouth and whistled. _Time to show a little strength_.

His cry was swiftly answered by a thunderous _neigh _as a vast chariot emerged from the clouds, cannonballing towards the courtyard at incomprehensible speeds as his horses approached. Within moments, his mount had landed, effortlessly trampling the one-ton creatures as it came to his side. Rider even distracted himself long enough to give an approving grin. With a crack of his newly reclaimed reins, Lancer charged, smashing his enemies aside as his chariot accelerated, eventually becoming a giant galloping lawnmower as the invading golems were crushed. Finally, the only thing in his path was the courtyard wall, which his chariot tore through like wet paper, annihilating the golems climbing it. Once he'd bulldozed a path through them, he was exceptionally relieved to find no more enemies springing from the shadows as he gradually came to a stop. He was lucky, really, that no one was about that night, or the Kotomine Church would have had some major explaining to do. A desolate and lonely night as it was, Lancer gave his thanks to his horses before reconsigning them to the sky, ready to reappear and turn the tide at a moment's notice. Slinging his spear over one shoulder, he returned through the ruined wall to find Rider sitting atop a small hill of various golem parts, cleaning his blade of earth and splintered wood. His sparring partner lifted his eyes from his work to beam at Lancer, the burning lamplight of the battle-trance still in his eyes.  
"A fine battle, don't you think?" Lancer laughed, sticking the butt of his spear in the ground.  
"Not as challenging as I'd have liked. Definitely more fun than sparring you." Undeterred, Alexander continued to beam at him.  
"I'd like to know who sent those creatures, and I'd like to know how much shit now stains their britches!" Lancer allowed himself another chuckle, before considering the question at hand.  
"Definitely sent by a Magus. However, I doubt any of the Masters have the prana spare to summon so many golems at a time. I'd assume what we just faced was either a product of Caster's abilities, or the influence of an outside party. However, given the Clock Tower's reasonably high regard for this event, I doubt any interference would come from the Magus Association." He gazed around at the ruined courtyard of the Church. "I suppose the location of the attack rules out Church interference. Caster it is." He leant on his spear, gazing around at the destroyed courtyard. "Rei's going to have a fit when she sees all this..."

* * *

**SA**

This evening, Renzoku had chosen the more spacious office of his ancestor Tohsaka Tokiomi to recline in. Sat back in a comfortable, spinning leather chair, the Magus sipped a fine red wine as he watched the city wind down for the night through his enormous bay window. On occasion, Fuyuki at dusk could be quite a wonderful view from Tokiomi's office, and tonight was one such blessed occurrence: the streetlights had yet to illuminate themselves, so the city was left to bask in the dying light of the sunset, creating blazing reflections from every glass tower and settling like a jagged scar on the distant Mion River. In the gardens of his own estate, that same sunset created a waning layer of amber on top of the grass, and bathed the fountains and ponds in gold. A flock of birds flew past, heading to some place of refuge for the night. _Evenings like this_, thought Renzoku, _ make life seem worth living. Especially after spending a day almost being murdered by a former religious fanatic_.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said a soft voice behind him. _Saber?_ Renzoku turned in his chair to find himself greeted with a stranger. He dressed simply, with a simple black three-quarter length t-shirt and combat trousers, as well as shin-high boots. In his hand was a half-eaten apple, red as blood. However, his most striking features were all on his head: Shoulder-length white hair like a thin blanket of snow, and glistening red eyes. _He should be beautiful_, thought Renzoku, _but he looks like a viper_. Thumbing the Kindlestone in his pocket, the Master stood and poured his unexpected guest a glass of wine from the crystal carafe on his desk. He proffered the glass of wine to his visitor, who graciously accepted. Renzoku cleared his throat.  
"You have cleared my magical barriers and passed my security without my taking notice," he began, "And yet you stand before me unarmed and drinking my wine. May I hazard a guess that you are not, in fact, here to kill me?" the viper grinned.

"Quite correct, Tohsaka-san," he replied in a modulated tone. "Not that I'd risk it with Saber on the premises. You appear to have yourself quite the remarkable Servant there." with that, the swordsman materialised in the corner, one corner of his mouth upturned in a smirk. The guest turned his gaze to Saber.  
"B in Strength, A in Mana... is that a B in Endurance? And an A in Agility! I'm impressed. I can't seem to read his Luck, however," His gaze drifted back to Renzoku. "Though a little bird tells me you were aiming even higher to start with." Renzoku was taken aback by this. _How could this stranger know about my botched plans for Gilgamesh? Unless... _  
"You don't mean you-"  
"Yes. As much as I love the spirit of competition, letting you bring the King of Heroes into the War would have, for one, likely taken up the Archer class which my Servant now fills, and secondly would have skewed this entire affair against me." Renzoku felt himself beginning to lose his temper, subconsciously heating the room a little by contact with his Kindlestone. Releasing a deep breath, he let go of the gem and returned the room to a bearable temperature. "You seem angry. Don't worry about it! If anything, I did you a favour. Remember what happened to the last Tohsaka to summon the King of Heroes? Bam. Right in the back with an Azoth Dagger!" Tohsaka's fiery anger turned to an icy glare in an instant. Saber loosened his sword in its scabbard.  
"You do not want to speak ill of my ancestors, O.C-san." Renzoku immediately regretted saying the acronym out loud; it sounded ridiculous.

No sooner had Saber's fidgeting made the light sound of steel on leather than with a glow of blue light, an enormous olive-skinned man with his hair in a topknot materialised in the room. He also wore lacquered metal plates similar to Saber's. _This must be Archer. I'll take this chance to examine his parameters_. Renzoku stepped forward slightly to get a better look.  
"Ah, examining my Servant? I suppose that's only fair." with the eyes of a Master, Renzoku could easily read the statistics related to Archer.  
"Cs in Strength and Mana, a D in Endurance and an A in Agility. My guess would be that those relatively low parameters trade off with either high Luck or an extremely powerful Noble Phantasm. Is this supposed to intimidate me?" His guest laughed.

"Quite the opposite. I have two reasons to be here. The first, information, and the second, a proposition. May I sit?" Renzoku gestured to an armchair by a bookshelf, and the man seated himself. Renzoku settled back down in his desk chair, his wine untouched. Behind him, the sun had mostly faded from the horizon, the faint afterglow mixed with the harsher illumination of the streetlights as they came to life for the evening. Renzoku's guest seemed to take his silence as an invitation to continue.  
"You battled with Lancer today. This is known by all the other Masters now. What they are not aware of is the fact that Lancer's Master, Kotomine Rei, has allied herself with Charles Velvet and Rider. Now, I know your Saber is very powerful, but I doubt you can face off against such a strong pair alone. This brings me to my proposition: a temporary truce. You appear to be a wise man, with a strong knowledge of your own better interests. I propose that we act as allies, to either deconstruct or defeat this alliance. What do you say?"  
Renzoku scratched his beard, taking a large sip of his wine. He looked over to Saber, whose stony face gave no evidence of a particular opinion.  
"You destroy my best chance of winning before the War even starts, break into my house after a battle, slip past my security and you pass up an opportunity to kill me in cold blood, seeking to strengthen your own chances with a man whose odds you harmed severely. That strikes me as an odd basis for cooperation, Mr..."  
"Chagatai, if you don't mind. Yes, you have summarised the situation well, but you haven't given me an answer." Renzoku laughed, draining the last of his glass with a smack of his lips.  
"Well, I can't exactly afford to have someone like you as an enemy, can I?"


End file.
